Personal Narrative: The Ancestor

My grandmother Lynne Murphy is who I chose to interview for my heritage project. This summer at a family birthday party I was speaking short phrases in Spanish while joking around with my dad. My grandmother, sitting beside us, joined in the conversation and starting speaking fluent Spanish. I had no idea she could speak Spanish, so I asked her, “How can you speak Spanish?” Before answering my question she laughed. She went on to tell me that she lived in South America for many years as a teenager. I didn’t have the chance to learn anymore about her childhood until this project was assigned. When I learned we were to focus on a family member’s experience growing up, I immediately thought about my grandmother and the interesting life she seemed

*disclaimer: bare with me... the next 5 chapters are crap because i wrote them over a year ago...chapter 19 will be the start of some great shit*

Growing up with two different Heritages is like growing up in two different worlds, it was tough growing up being Native and Hispanic I would either get made fun of because I was Native or I was made fun of for being Hispanic. I guess you can say that I have somewhat of a different life, living with any Hispanic family but considering myself more Native, because just at home i just speak spanish, and eat amazing food made by my mother who isn’t even Hispanic who’s just Native American who didn’t consider herself Native American because she herself lived with my grandmother or she lived with a family friend who was Hispanic and showed her things about a culture that she didn’t know anything about.

It became normal. I started to believe these names. If somebody called out, Tree, I would look around. In the barn scene, Kunta was getting ready to escape, and Fiddler was helping him after he was singing that lullaby. Kunta had asked Fiddler his name, his real name, and I have to admit, that moment was really emotional. Fiddler seemed to come to an understanding of how unbreaking Kunta was. I feel Kunta wasn’t built for a slave, his roots, his mindset, and his resilience wouldn’t allow it. This leads to him escaping, or trying to escape, many times. The first time he was bought by Samson, and the other times, he was caught by dogs. A very disappointing moment for me, because my nerves had built up while he was running, so when he was caught, I was extremely disappointed. It seemed to me, when he was escaping the second time, he was doing it not only for himself, but to Fiddler, and his family. Maybe even Jinna. At the end, where he was losing contact with his parents, was absolutely heartbreaking to me, because he is giving up. He was giving into his new identity, losing his

Throughout the conversation, Susan did not inform me that the home was still in First Look and not open to investors at this time. Susan did not highlight any features of the home, nor did she talk about the neighborhood or the surrounding area. When asked, Susan paused to reference the property file and stated, "In looking at the pictures it appears that it needs interior paint, carpet, appliances, and a few windows, which the previous seller must have taken." She stated, "I don't know why they have to remove things from the homes." I asked, "Do you have offers?" She paused to check the property file and answered, "No offers." I asked, "Is the property behind the home farmland?" She paused to reference the property file and replied, "It appears

As he opened the door the person that was hiding in the living room jumped up and stabbed the father in the chest. The last thing the father remembered was the face. He thought it looked like one of his siblings.

My dad says “what’s on the table is what you eat or you don’t eat at all” if we didn’t want what was on the table then we would either have to make our own food or don’t eat at all. My dad thought that if we tried something new we might like it, if we didn’t like it and we tried it my mom or dad would make us something else as long as we tried something new, but if we didn’t try it they would tell us we would have to make our own food or we don’t get to eat at all my grandma and grandpa also say it too.

My legacy can be remembered by a lot of people if I want it to. It all depends on how I put myself out there, and I want to be out there to be remembered. When people think about me, I want them to think positive thoughts. I would like to be thought of as a person who was very kind, funny, helpful, smart, and other good character traits like that. Having these personality traits can make my other classmates better at what they do in school. But, if I do something wrong, or incorrect if I leave a bad trail for for my classmates to follow that means that's how those people are going to remember me as. I know for a fact that is not how I want people to think about somewhere in the future or right know in the present.

I must have been eight or nine when I started planning with a friend to put on a play. Katie was probably fourteen or fifteen and all we really wanted was to do something with our friends, neither of us having much experience with acting. Looking back now, many years later and a lot more knowledge and experience on the subject, I’d say we were gung hoe and mess up on out priorities. First we started writing a script. Understandably she didn’t want me to write it and she never got much of a chance to work on it except when we were together sometimes. Well we didn’t get very far and our families finally convinced us to start with a play already written. What did we pick? Well, I think we jumped around a little before settling on ‘The Taming

When In my Mind’s eye his face has been etched since the day I first saw her.

Coming from a family of four and living with only my mother has been very difficult. She has been my only parent figure growing up and I have overcome endless amounts of barriers and hardships. I am the oldest in my family and required to babysit. It is my responsibility to help her out by working with her at her job because she doesn't obtain much money. My mom works at a small cellphone shop where I help her manage inventory, make payments, and solve telephone related problems. I learned how to communicate with customers and gain people skills. It has been rough balancing life at home and at school. I had nobody to look up to and felt alone. Being first generation, I felt as if I was carrying the world's weight on my shoulder. College is

I neck almost snaps based on how quickly I turn my head, “What the hell did you just say to me?!”

Have you tried and failed to get together with a girl or guy? Well this roller-coaster of a story will surely get you to empathize or sympathize with me, or maybe if it is that big of a failure to you, both.

Wrapped in the history and culture of East Asia. Unaware to me, I became enthralled by the language, art and culture of East Asia.  The colors are vibrant. Catching my attention, I can’t seem to look elsewhere. It took me awhile to find my fit. My parents since I a little kid had a dream for me to become a doctor. Coming to the last stages of high school I realized that was not the right choice for me because of different amount of reasons. An exceeding amount of arguments between my parents and myself. My mom came to me and told me of a major that she said would fit me. I did not know East Asian Studies was a subject until my mom researched it. At that moment I found the career to pursue. Now Even I have to admit mothers are always right.

At only seven years old, pulling the starter rope on my older brother’s Boston Whaler is no easy task. After a dozen tries, I finally call for my dad who is on the other dock dealing with the fishing gear. In what seems to take hours, he walks over to me and shakes his head. Before we had even gotten to the Marina, Dad asked if I needed him to start the engine, and of course I declined, wanting to feel like a “big kid.” With one simple tug from my father’s strong arm, the old Briggs & Stratton engine purred to life, as if brand new. Switching into the forward gear, I roared off the dock in search of circling birds, a clear indicator that fish were nearby.