Personal Narrative: Americas Funniest Home

I think I was about 11 years of age. It was a warm September evening. Our family was getting ready for another cookout. For those of you who don’t know, cookouts are when my family invites other family and/or friends over to cook hot dogs and toast marshmallows over a fire pit in our backyard. Usually after that my dad and I will usually play backyard baseball.

It was on a rainy Wednesday night at our grandma Donna's house in the summer. We were messing around like usual. Well, a little. We were trying to make a movie

It was me and my brother living in Nebraska at age 24. It was fun living in Nebraska actually because we got to see many things together like the plant my brother grew in our backyard. Only one thing came popping up in my mind though. Ever sense that weird neighbor moved in across from us our both of our parents past away. My brother got sick and needed medical help right away but then there is me Blaine Elliott. I'm the only

I could hear footsteps, when I opened my eyes I saw my dad shaking me by the shoulder. That day we were had to get up at 4am and make our way to an entertainment park. We were already 5 minutes late. It was a morning of rushing around and a bit of frustration. After a short shower I grabbed a snack and jumped into the car. We had a 30 minute car ride ahead of us. This was not our car, we had rented one because we were on vacation in Costa Rica. I was in 7th grade then. It was the last month of the year and my dad had saved money for months for this trip it was our 3rd day into the trip with 4 days to go. My 2 brothers Ian and Gage came with us, Gage was only 5 years old, Ian was 13. Once we arrived at the Entertainment park we were right on time. The gates opened at 6am giving us just enough time to get some breakfast . Once we got there I sat down in the waiting room and waited for my dad to sign the waiver papers. After he finished signing we walked outside into a small area, there were harnesses

Someone broke into my car and about $400 worth of cash and items were stolen.

The agency I chose to interview was MyHouse at 300 North Willow in Wasilla, Alaska. Their mission is to provide safe shelter for homeless youth with a goal of connecting kids to a network of caring individuals and agencies able to assist them in becoming self-sufficient. They have a board of directors that meet regularly to discuss issues and where to go next with the agency.

One memory that I cannot get out of my head is from Christmas time. My dad’s family passes off which house Christmas was held in each year, and this year was our turn. I had only been playing

The house was long, white, and had blue shudders. I could always pick out which set of windows out front peeked into my bedroom because of the messy off-white paint stuck to it after years of never being touched up. Inside, so much more was going on than the typical all-American home lead outsiders to believe. Confusion, growth, fear, and lots of aluminum cans.

I woke up on a warm sunny Saturday morning and went down stairs and called my friend Joey Gliech and said “Today is the day!”

It was a normal school day at Brookhurst Jr. High in 7th Period were my friends and I were talking and waiting for the bell to ring so we could all go home and the school day would be over. Before I left I needed to go to the bike racks to get my skateboard so I could ride it home.

You never actually said your name out loud to anyone, and I'm not entirely sure how I managed to find it out in the first place. I'm sure it was through the whisper chains you hear every so often in this cafe. You have a soft voice you know, it's barely audible when you say things, it's not quite what I'd call gruff or gritty, it just has this sort of toughness. It's as though you've steadily built up a defence mechanism in your voice so people don't ask you things you'd rather not answer.

I was playing outside on a hot, late afternoon in August. My mother and grandmother were in the house. My dad was at work. I was five.

There is one memory that stands out like a sore thumb. The details are muddled. I don't know how old I was or how the weather treated me. I don't know how, what, or why I landed myself in the situation, but I remember how I felt.

One memory that I still remember was the day I broke my wrist. My family and I were at the park and I happened to be in the monkey bars. There were these two boys that were also there and were showing off their skills. I should have played something else because the monkey bars were kind of old and broken, but no, I went up the monkey bar

When I was a child, the only thing I can remember, is breaking both of my arms and causing trouble for my mother.