One day, I was coming home from a movie in the city and I had just gotten on my normal Cleveland Avenue bus. It was December 1, 1950 and I had been riding the bus for about five minutes. Since I was a white man, I always sat in the front of the bus. We were about to make our next stop and before we stopped I noticed a few black women about to get on. When she got on the bus and walked pass me, I looked at her and could tell that she was not an old women. She was in her mid forties and looked very healthy and well. I continued to watch her. I didn't know what it was about her but she really inspired me and seemed different from anyone else I had ever seen before. She sat down in the first “Black” section of the bus, and then we started to move
Lotes en Cleveland Heights. Sucio, basura por todas partes. Pero imagine uno como un jardín. Eso era verdad. (Lots in Cleveland Heights. Dirty, trash everywhere. But imagine one as a garden. That was true.)
When people ask me where I am from and I say Cleveland, they often react as if I had said “vanilla.” But if I say Believeland, they perk up and typically want to hear more.
I was 16 years old when i moved to Cleveland. I had moved from California, a place that everyone thinks of as a area of movie making, opportunities, rich people with fancy lamborghinis and ferraris, well it's nothing like that where i come from. Compton california, the place that you can see 14 year old gang members with guns, get shot just for wearing the wrong color, or just walking down the street like my mom. I never really meet my dad he got locked up when i was 3 on an assault charge so i had to move in with my grandparents in Cleveland.
Today my Hilarious Fiend Jasper and I will be leaving Dupree around 2:00. We will be traveling 2 hours 20 minutes and One Hundred Forty Five miles. To Rapid City South Dakota
Driving up to Cooperstown through the gates, I was excited to see the variety of different license plates. Nevada, Texas, North and South Carolina, New York, Tennessee, Ohio, Virginia and many more filled up the parking lots. While driving through and getting directed to my barrack I saw tons and tons of kids. After settling in, my team and I walked around in awe listening to boys from other parts of the country talking. Most of the time I would laugh to myself because of the accents the southerners had. When it came to playing, the moment I stepped onto the field I felt like I was a professional. The grass so cleanly cut and the dirt so perfectly grated. The sun beating on my neck and the beautiful summer breeze made perfect baseball weather.
Many people move around to different states throughout their life, and I have had the opportunity to live in what feels like two different worlds. I have spent most of my life in Bradenton, Florida, but at the age of ten I moved to the small town of Cleveland in the north east Georgia mountains. The two towns are completely different in my opinion and only someone who has lived there would completely understand what I mean when I say two different worlds. The weather, the people, and the different opportunities are just a few of the differences between the two towns.
“Dad, I can’t talk, I'm heading out right now,” I said while hugging the phone with my shoulder up to my ear. He told me to be cautious on the roads, considering the blizzard we had just had a few days ago. It was an unusually calm day in the suburbs of Chicago, Illinois. A perfect day to travel, the snow on the ground glistened as it had just been freshened with a new coat from the light snowfall early this morning. The sun was barely noticeable from the distance as the tip of it lit up the outline of city. It gave the trees a soft glow making it look like there were thousands of microscopic diamonds floating off the branches of the bare trees through the breeze, carrying them across the neighborhood and greeting themselves at the window
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.
On the cold, dim late Thursday afternoon of December 1, 1955, a forty two year old seamstress named Rosa Parks, a trim, soft-spoken, bespectacled woman of tidily proper comportment, left after a day of working in the tailor shop of a downtown Montgomery department store and, wearily, boarded a city bus home. She took an aisle seat near the middle of the already crowded bus, beside three other black passengers, in the row right behind the front section reserved by law for whites – which rapidly filled until, at the third stop, a white man was left having to stand. The driver turned to demand of Mrs. parks and the three blacks beside her, “Alright you folks, I want those seats.” The other three black beside her, moved to stand in the back of
I have written many essays since I was in middle school yet most of my writing was not that important besides for a grade. Yet there is one piece of writing I wrote that change my life and felt that it had an important impact to The City of Chicago. My teacher during that time wanted the class to enter in a citywide competition, which is called “Do The Write Thing”. It is a way for students to voice their opinions on how to stop the violence in Chicago. I wanted to help reduce the violence in Chicago since many youths are being killed in the streets every single day. In my paper, I mainly focused on three body paragraphs. The first one was why the violence in the city was increasing. The second one was some type of violence that I have witness in my own personal life. The final paragraph
I knew I was not supposed to be doing what I was about to do. My momma and papa warned me a million times and I even got grounded once, maybe twice, for disobeying them, but this was the festival of colors we are talking about. When you are a big, little fish swimming in and out of the caves and rocks and through the underwater bubblers around the florescent seaweed, and flipping the sea slugs over and racing the turtles down by the Mississippi Street Bridge. Everyone that was important in the river colony spent every minute of their free time in the shallows under the bridge. Once you experience the bridge nowhere else is as fun or amusing. There were rebels and dare-devils that weaved in and out of little rock pools sticking out of the river’s
On September 08, 2015 at approximately 9:29 PM I, Deputy Bowring, was dispatched to shots fired and the subjects were in a black in color, Nissan pickup, heading north bound on Farm to Market 288 toward State Highway 154.
So far, my trip has been a fairly easy one. I left home on April 5, and I believe it's been 75 days. I didn't want to leave Cleveland right then since business was good but I have to avoid the winter months. Thankfully, we avoided a majority of the rain. I heard from men a few wagons ahead that they were soaked from the rain meaning that we barely missed it. I am a little worried about my health, though. A friend of mine on the wagon died from cholera, and I'm praying that I don't get
When I first rode the bus with Mr. Lach I did not know what to expect because I had never rode the bus. My mother had always drove my sisters and I to school but I no longer was at the elementary and needed a ride to school. The first day I stepped on that bus Mr. Lach greeted me to my surprise using my name. I then did not know where to sit so I sat with my friends Dylan Devier and Drew Meyers which was a mistake because they were the kids that caused trouble and hair loss to those who could not handle those kinds of kids and sat right behind Mr. Lach. From then on I matured from fifth grade through freshman year and developed what I would say a good trusting relationship.
Several months ago, I remember that I was driving to a friend house. I was with my best friend and we both did not know how to get to the house. I've always been bad with directions, so I easily get lost. We opted to use the GPS, but for our luck there was bad signal. It was night and the house was in the field. We had to go through many curves without knowing where we were going. And here's where something happened that was horrible for us. We came to a bridge that was very dark and had not lampposts, so we could not see anything. I remember we look at each other very frightened, and suddenly came to our minds the famous story of the woman dressed in white who is waiting for someone to pass to enter the car and be taken to a certain place.