Personal Narrative: A Day At Second Harvest

Hot summer day in southern California I was born at 1:17p.m. on August 13, 1996 in San Diego. My father was a marine and my mom was a stay at home mom like most of the wife’s of marines. I have three older sisters and one older brother and two younger brothers my older siblings are my half-sisters and brother. My two younger brothers both have a disability Carlos (Ricky) was born in Patterson, New Jersey he was immediately rushed into surgery because he has a heart condition when they had to cut him open and preform open heart surgery. My other little brother Gabriel Jr (Gabe) was diagnosed with autism when he was two or three he still has yet to talk to this day. My little brothers are a big part of my life I love them so much. If I lost one

The documentary, “Waiting on the World to Change: Poverty in Camden, New Jersey”, follows the lives of children and shows the difficulties they face while growing up poor in the most dangerous city in America. Coming from a family where I was always provided with everything I needed it’s hard to imagine how the children of Camden survive. This film allowed me to see, from a child’s point of view, how bad people in my own backyard have it. Watching this film I learned how bad poverty is in America and how people who grow up in average homes often take advantage of what they have. The children in the film have the same dreams as any ordinary kid growing up in America, but unlike them, these children were never given the opportunity to pursue

I think that is an excellent thought, Lindsey. When I first read this that is what I thought as well. Whenever Ada begins to let Susan love her, and whenever Susan starts to show more affection Ada lashes out. I think that Ada lashes out because she feels like she is not deserving of love, and she is not deserving of nice things. This just tears me up inside when a person does not feel like they are worth being loved. The amount of damage that Ada has suffered is almost irreversible now and I think Susan is starting to realize that this will not be an easy fix. I am honestly surprised at how normal Jamie is because even though he was not the one who was abused, he witnessed the abuse. I am glad that he has not lost his trust in people. This

I recently moved from Denver and started to order from local deliveries. Seems most are stuck up people from out of town who don't give a rats ass if they mess up an order or arrive late. Don't get me wrong, one or two of the other deliveries seem to be from Davis or woodland that are just fine. Only thing is, i certainly am not looking for fine or good. Being from Denver i was accustomed to top shelf for a great price, and let me start by saying Dank Valley Farms has gone above and beyond to help me. I recently ordered, and right when i called, i was greeted by a young man with an expansive knowledge of not only his menu but what would help with my medical conditions. Not to mention he also had me chuckling a couple times while i was ordering.

Who am I? What makes me unique? What makes me special? As simple as these questions are, why are they so impossible to answer? Am I the star pitcher on the varsity baseball team? Or am I valedictorian at a prestigious school where competition levels are at an all time high? Or am I the high school dropout who couldn’t care less where I end up? I am none of these things. I am myself. I am me. My anthology is me.

I froze like a ice cube in the car. It felt like all the nerves in my body were engulfing me into a dark pit. The day has come, State finals! I could feel the blood rushing through my body all the way from my head to my tippy toes. We where arriving to the fields and I hade a feeling that what's to come was going to be unexpected. I got out of my car and ran to my team, time for warm ups i thought. Everyone kept hearing whispers of fear, and then the whistle blew. TIme to get out on the field. It was Game time!

A year ago I was still a student in University of California, Santa Cruz. Studying in such environment forced me to make the decision to leave California for my future. Nonetheless, saying goodbye to my dearest friends was the hardest task.

My first source is, “bmj.com.” It is an article, about a surrogate mother who lost her baby and how the parents came in contact with her. It also explains how she went to court because of losing the baby. My second source is People Magazine. The magazine tells a story of a mother who was a surrogate for her daughter's child. The mother was very supportive of the idea of a surrogate mother Sherri Dickson, told People Magazine, “‘I decided that if they needed somebody to carry their child, I would volunteer’” (qtd in Coder

Another type of poverty that we see all the time are the kids from street which are poor at the point of homeless. Those children go through very bad situation as well. I had thought about those kids before, and I knew that it could be bad to live in the streets while being a child, but then, through my investigation, I realized that it was worse than what I thought. Since the 1990’s in New York city and other urban areas across the United States, the public violence that involved street kids was not a groundbreaking news. Nearly five thousand street young people die each year in the United States, primarily from violence, illness, and suicide. Also, there were a lot of crack dealing, prostitution and drugs. Many kids have died during this

I have only one word: listen. Humans became so loud, shouting to be heard over everyone else. So concerned with ourselves, our jobs, our money, or the internet that we stopped paying attention to the pieces of nature around us, beautiful and ugly alike. We try so hard to fill our lives with meaning in the most unmeaningful of ways, promotions and new cars, when there’s so much more to living. The trees sing when the wind blows and we’re listening to the radio. Hermit crabs chirp, dolphins name themselves, prairie dogs have voices and we ignore it all in favor of Facebook What doesn’t directly affect us is blocked out or put on a back burner so we won’t think about it. We became so removed from the natural world we no longer notice what’s

The body I had managed to jostle awake was a latecomer to Oeste the Stalerie had labeled Makenna. It was common for farmers to sell their female children to Oeste, the males were sold to Sur, on the night they were born and given a new name under the King. It was either the tower you sold your children to, or the death of not only your Daelocke child, but it meant your death as well. My own father was an impoverished horse farmer somewhere near the south. He, his wife and four children occupied a home somewhere distant from the island. They had supplied The King and his Stalarie their horses and livestock. I was told by the Sylphen that I was the last child born, and regrettably, born under the night of a full moon. He had sold me just three

As a child, I was fascinated by stories about a farm in Harrison County, Maine, where my father spent his teenage years. Being raised on a farm seemed more interesting than growing up in the suburbs. About a year ago, I decided to explore what living on a farm was like. To get to Harrison County, I had to drive on Route 334, a surprisingly easy-to-drive, four-lane highway that had recently been built with matching state and federal funds. I turned into the dirt road leading to the farm and got out of my car. It had been washed and waxed for the occasion. Then I headed for a dirt-colored barn. Its roof was full of huge, rotted holes. As I rounded the bushes, I saw the house. It too was dirt-colored. Its paint must have worn off decades ago.

I had just woken up in the morning getting ready to head to Oak Grove. I arrived at Oak Grove with a few of my team members already there. Once everyone had showed up we took batting practice in the cages. After hitting we had to wait for our bus to show up. The waiting was excruciating. We decided we would pass the time by playing a game. The rules were simple you threw the ball at someone and they had to field it cleanly, if they didn’t they were out. We played for a good twenty minutes forgetting that our bus wasn’t here yet. Our coaches were frantically calling the bus station but the bus wasn’t coming. So a kid on our team named Jake called his parents who lived across the street from the school. He asked them if they could get their RV

It is the early summer of 2016, a hot dry Sunday morning. Four of us sit together, side by side, on the couch that has been in the living room forever. While the presidential candidates of 2016-2017 are on tv, we listen attentively to my brother. When he was finished talking, we all got up and left, and we are officially over the subject, my brother is now a college student at the University of Texas. For all of us, now it’s the start of our last summer. Afterward , my mother starts cooking one of her best dishes, and starts to sing and dance. She is a strong woman who takes large steps , for nothing can stop her, at any time, could probably manage going through hell. In her normal day clothes, she looks like a cross between a nurturing mother and a drill sergeant. She has sparkling brown eyes, brown-black hair that flows past her shoulders, normal ears, triangular nose and perfect eyebrows. Even though her teeth are near to perfect except for two teeth - as if someone had just placed them in - when she smiles it’s

I have never been a big talker. I talk a lot to people I am really close to, but I don't enjoy talking to people I don't know. This has been a huge struggle for me and my conscious because I know as a Seventh - day Adventist I am called to share God’s love with everyone even the people I don’t know. I’m not good with words especially when I am put on the spot and don’t have time to think of what I’m going to say. When I am put in positions to witness I often times leave the situation and say “Oh man I could have said this.” I’m not here to talk about my flaws, but to share with you how God showed me how He wanted me to witness.