Personal Narrative: Growing Up In Providence

Even though I’ve eaten lobster rolls, sported L.L. Bean jackets, and cruised lighthouse-studded coastlines, I am anything but a New-Englander. Though this has been by 4th year in Massachusetts, I still feel like I’m still the new kid on the block, the midwestern girl who’s naive to the traditions and expectations of New England. But, I am comfortable here, a result of many challenges I had to face over the time I spent in Massachusetts. These challenges did not arise when I first moved out—I was very unhappy the first and second year—it was during Sophomore year, when I started to adapt and be happy, did challenges from home spring forth on me. These challenges were from the people that I had left, family, friends, and others who felt that

I was born in Northern, New York, about forty miles from the Canadian border in a wasteland of a town called Carthage, sixty miles from the nearest walmart. My mother, now Louise Percy, is ex-navy and worked for the federal government on Fort Drum until she retired ever since I was born. My father, Donald Bishop, was a beauty. He was in and out of prison all his life, including juvenile. He was imprisoned much through my baby-toddler stage and when he wasn’t imprisoned he jumped from construction job to construction job, drinking and smoking marijuana heavily until the day he died, last May 28th. I was born into a household with my mother, father, brother and half-sister for the first few years in my life. My half-sister skipped town after developing a heroin addiction and my father drove my mother psychologically insane until she ended up in a psych ward and we spent a few weeks with my grandmother (father’s mom) until she was released. My mother and father split up and my father never fought for custody nor paid child support. My mother had been a single mom for ten years

It was a nice summer morning we I was all of a suden shoke like turbulence on a plane to wake up. It turns out I slept threw my alarm to wake up for the day. It was about 11:00 am and today we were heading to Florida and our flight takes off at 1:00 pm. You may think that we had time to make the airport in Milwaukee but, we had to drive all the way to Chicago, Illinois because there was no flight for Florida in Milwaukee. Luckily I had packed the day before with the rest of my family so all we had to do was wait for our aunt Lisa to take us to the aiport in Chicago. She showed up five minutes later with a mini van and there was about seven of us jammed in there. It was alright for me because in our family if you called “shot-gun” or “I

grew up in Chicago, Illinois, a beautiful city surrounded by violence and controversy by the media. I found things more simple when I was kid growing up here, there wasn't much to worry about but as I got older things became more complex here. The sounds of the " L "' or as you know it as, The Train, and the roaring sounds of cars passing by my house made me feel alive while growing up and as a matter of fact still does. You could wake up in the morning and see the vibrant blue skies being pierced by the skyscrapers and see other kids playing ball or riding their bikes. When it was summer time I would play ins sprinklers or go downtown and play in the fountains with my family. Of course, like most big cities I had to watch my back while growing up because you never knew what somebody was up to. It's weird really growing up here because you never know what's going to happen next , wether it's a good thing or a bad thing. All I can really say about growing up in Chicago is that if I had the chance to redo it, I'd do if a million times.

Growing up in the Chicago area was a great experience for me, I was always a good kid but I had always struggled in school. The reason that I had a hard time in school was that I had A.D.D which was the cause of my distraction. Entering Pritzker College Prep was a different experience for me because I was overwhelmed, the reason as to why I felt overwhelmed was because of the amount of homework we got. I ended up spending nights where I would do my homework and wouldn’t get a sufficient amount of sleep and would also cause me to fall asleep in class. My grades started to drop which caused me to stop caring in school, so I also decided to just stop doing my homework and it caused a decrease in my grades.

September 12th, 2015. We had arrived in Boston the day before after a ten hour drive which wasn’t as bad as you’d think it would be. Sure, it definitely felt like a ten hour drive, but it was an entirely new experience for me. I crossed the US border for the first time, received by first American dollar bill, and to pass the time, I kept track of every different license plate I laid my eyes on; 16 different states and provinces to be exact. The ideas that a mother and son duo from a tiny community in Quebec came across another person with a California plate on their car intrigued me, and this really made time fly. Before we knew it, we were entering the city of Boston.

It all started on a warm sunny day, my dad had just arrived from Michigan. He came into the house gave my siblings, my mother and me a hug and told us the big news. “We are moving to Michigan” he said. He said it so calmly as if expecting my siblings, my mother and myself to react in a good way. Immediately I started to panic, I didn’t want to leave the place I grew up in. I was only eleven years old, I didn’t know how the people in Michigan would be. Finally I spoke “ I don’t want to move dad, I love it here!” which he responded with “I’m sorry but we are going to move because we can’t afford to live here anymore” He said this so emotionless as if not knowing how this could affect me. I hardly got any sleep that night for the fact that my parents were arguing for what felt like all night, but in reality was just an hour.

I witnessed my cousins boyfriend corpse lying on my neighbors lawn. It was a humid summer night around 3:30 when I peeked through my window and saw my devastated cousin sobbing uncontrollably on my decaying porch. Being from East chicago, Indiana has transformed me into the person I am today.

Where I come from it's taking pride in your yard, knowing every single one of your neighbors, and leaving doors unlocked because there isn’t a thing to worry about. I find comfort in that small town feel, and I am more than proud to be from good ol’ Warrenton, Indiana. Here, we are just a wee bit shy of being big enough to be on a map, but we have a name and we have town lines. Within those lines nearly two hundred people have found a home, and thanks to Mr.Dave Gruible our community is steadily flourishing. There are now three subdivisions on the rise in addition to the church, salon, family restaurant, and campgrounds that nestled into the area years ago.

Growing up in this city of Chicago was very nice. I lived on the Westside of Chicago, Hamlin and Augusta. Our community was not a community it was block. The block is the street that I lived one. My sisters and I was able to go to the park until the sunset. We would walk almost a mile just to have fun. We was able to walk everywhere, candy store, school, parties, and mall. All the houses on the blocks where kept up so nice. Every house had a flower bed. There were no boarded up houses. The grass was cut so well, and the brushes were trimmed nicely. You could smell the food that the neighbors were cooking. All the children on the block were able to play with each other. The neighbor would feed the other neighbors children. The trust for the people on Hamlin was very strong because everyone knew each other for years. The early 2000’s is a year that I will never forget. In 1973 my mom was born in Chicago. She lived in the same house that I lived in on Hamlin. As I was talking to my mother she was telling me that her life living in Chicago was lovely. Her dad

East Coast is known for so many different things; people, history, fashion, stores, and heritage. But the most recent trend is desserts. Desserts can be sweet, savory, healthy or unhealthy. Desserts make people feel happy especially east coasters.

In 1752 at the age seventeen years, I was a destitute living in Scotland, Ireland. With no real skill-trade or education I had high ambitions to become a collective dependant, hoping to achieve a stable lively-hood in the New World. I lost most of my loved sickness. The only few relatives remaining were as impoverished as myself. Fearing there would be no prospect of a better life in Scotland I contracted myself as an indentured servant in exchange for passage to the New World. I and many others boarded a merchant ship that specialized in the trade of textiles and dress making. It was in the interest of the captain to keep us fed and in decent health to be sold for profit to proprietors in the colonies. Our voyage to New York would take 8-9

As a young girl, I never quite understood the importance my dad’s job had on me until I became much older. Throughout my childhood I was often mistreated out of the sight of my parents. From brutal words to simple exclusion, I never really fit in at my church. I was constantly separated from all of the children because I was the Pastor’s

Eighteen years ago Julie Carol Parton (my loving mother) and Ric Parton (my inspirational father) brought Logan Parton (that's me) into this unique and vastly changing world. Little did I know that one day I was going to set immensely challenging goals to achieve. I grew up in a small town, near the corner of Indiana, known as Vevay. For the early portions of my life I lived on a middle sized farm with my family. There always was two different perspectives within our household. On one side of the house there was my father and my oldest sister Christina, and on the other side was my mother and my middle sister Melisa. The perspective that my father and oldest sister shared was that they both felt the want to make money and move away from Vevay, on the other side my mother and middle sister had the mindset of wanting to be farmers and

My mother relocated to Birmingham, Alabama my first year of high school seeking a better life. Apparently, my father started to miss having his family because he went from being a “ghost father” to a “pop up father”. My father was here one moment and gone the next; he was constantly in and out of our lives. Initially, my classmates scrutinized and ridiculed me for having a fatherless household. I felt destitute and powerless. I needed to find someone or something to influence me in a better way by helping me change from a boy into a man. I became a recluse, never interacting with anyone.