Personal Statement : My Father

Hey dad I'm writing to you because I feel it's easier and it gives you more time to think. I wanna just tell you how I have been feeling lately and what I'm going through, okay here it goes. Ever since I was about 12-13 I've noticed that I never had any feelings towards guys and it wasn't till I started hanging out with a close friend of mine that I realized I really did like her. I noticed every little thing about her, I worked out her flaws, I could be myself around her she made me feel safe. The day I actually confronted her about it she said it was disgusting and that she couldn't be friends with me anymore. It hurt a lot that someone would say that and so from then on I didn't say anything about it I kept telling myself that I liked guys but all I did was lie to myself and I don't wanna do that anymore.

“Prove them wrong” When I was in fourth grade my dad and brother and I were playing basketball at our house, to help my brother practice. I had never played basketball except against my brother, Brayden. My dad would always be our referee and it was a lot of fun. Even though I never beat Brayden. Brayden didn’t think I was very good, and he would have to play easy on me instead of playing as well as he could have played. It really annoyed me I wanted to be as good as him or better because I wanted to actually have a chance to be better than him at one sport.

It was the spring of 2013. My mom took me out of school early that day because we needed to get driving to Dike, Iowa. Since my sister is also a volleyball player, she has state that same weekend, but not in the same place. However, the sophomores were at the same place we were. Anyhow, my sister drove with my mom to the hotel her team was staying at, and I drove with my dad. I’m a lot like my dad so I get ready pretty quickly and I only pack what’s needed. When I got home, it took me about five minutes to get ready since I packed my bag the day before. On the other hand, my mom had to take at least half an hour to “fix” her makeup and her hair, and my sister took about forty-five minutes just to pack her bag! Anyways, my dad and I made it

If there was one thing that my father made sure I experienced from a young age, it was hard work. When he first traveled to this country, the only thing to his name was his suitcase and a handful of money. Shortly after when I was born, he worked from the ground up to ensure I had a good upbringing. When I graduated high school, he didn't have the money to send me to college, and I didn't want to be snared by student loans, so I had to find another way. I wanted to work for everything that I earned, so I joined the military.

This is what biking means to me. This is a simple moment but in my mind it’s quite complex. How it makes me disappear and how i feel quiet, and calm. My moment is biking down a big hill.

You know how when your a kid and you dont think anything could go wrong: well thats what I thought and then everything went wrong. Let me start at the beginning though I was born July 1st 1996,i was sort of an unexpected surprise my mother had only wanted one child and she was already planing on leaving my dad when she found out she was pregnant. Not wanting to leave two kids without a father she tried working things out with my father again that only lasted 6months after I was born and mom came back home with her parents with not one but two kids. My grandparents immediately took charge of the situation and helped there single daughter raise her children in doing so they took us in as there children. How you may ask well by they took us in as there children they literally took us in my mom

My father was a lifeguard, but not in my lifetime, so maybe loving the ocean was in our blood. As children we grew up in Brooklyn and we would go to Riis Park for our day at the beach. One very distinct memory is of my father as he stood waist deep in the ocean with my brother and sister; the waves periodically lifted and dropped them in the water at his side. Waist deep for my father meant it was well over my head so I remained a safe distance (or so I thought) behind them. Suddenly, a wave appeared and before I could turn and rush to the shoreline the ocean attacked. I found myself in a world of foam, pockets of air allowed me to breathe as I was tossed about like a wet sock in a dryer. Head over heals I tumbled, my skin scrapped by the crushed sea shells that covered the sand. After what felt like an eternity I found myself on the wet sand as the wave retreated out to sea; I’m pretty sure it laughed and gave me the finger as it left.

In 2005, it was 75 degrees in Tampa, Florida and my dad, sister, and I were at the beach. I was only eight years old and I felt relaxed. Growing up in Florida was tough because it was only my dad that took care of us. Every morning he wakes up at 6 A.M, makes his coffee, wakes my sister and I up, makes breakfast, and bring us to day care. Since my mom was not around it was difficult for him, being a single parent trying to make means for his family. Just like in “Aunt Alice vs. Bob Marley,” Kareem Kennedy’s aunt describes her parents as “hard workers.” She said, “Mom didn’t have to work, but she chose to work because she wanted to make sure we had everything. They always made sure we had a decent meal.”

My dad is driving all the way to Minnesota to get a motorcycle. At least, that’s what I thought. He woke me and my brother up and showed us a picture of a motorcycle. To be honest, I thought that was what we were actually getting because we didn’t have any suitcases so it wasn’t a surprise vacation. I didn’t know we were getting a kitten. I did ask for one more than 5 times. My mom did show me a picture of a kitten that was ready to be adopted. Ok, I’m finished talking.

I dashed into the brush to find cover, the rain was pelting on my back. It was my first Boy Scout outing and we were playing a game of capture the flag, but the lightning was coming, we all could see it off in the distance.

I remember when my Dad and I were at my old house playing catch. After we would finish playing catch he would tell me what I need to work on and help me out. My Dad helps out a lot of people, like his patients. He is a very skilled eye doctor and helps many people everyday. He is also a very good athlete, ever since he was a kid to a grown man.

When I was eight years old, I realized I was slightly different from my dad, but very similar. My dad, and my brother, and I were sitting upstairs in our room and my dad said, “I’m gonna draw something for you guys to guess.” So my brother and I sat there waiting and watched him draw it. My brother and I were interested and what he was drawing and we really liked it. My dad made sure the drawing was well done so we could all guess what it was. He was getting close to the end and me and my brother kept trying to guess it and have fun with it. It took a minute for my brother and I to guess it, but when we finally got it is when I realized I wasn't talented at drawing like my dad and I don't like to draw as much as him. Although I had fun with him, we are very different.

I was in like 7th or 8th grade. One night, my mom comes and asks to pack for a night and get my shoes on. I ask her where we’re going. She wouldn’t tell me, so I didn’t get ready to go anywhere. Then my dad comes down and they start arguing. Earlier that day, my dad had drank like 2 beers while me and him were cleaning out our garage. We were going through some cabinets and there were bottles of alcohol in one. My dad took them inside to hide them inside because her and one of her friends had gotten drunk one night and her friend hit his head and fell down his steps. So as he was carrying them inside, my dad dropped one of the bottles and it fell down our step. Luckily it didn’t break. My dad and brother were arguing over something earlier

What keeps me up at night is how privileged I am. My father grew up in a very poverty stricken town, Guanajuato. Even though his family owned a great deal of land to cultivate fruits, they were barely able to make ends meet. My Grandma and father would have to wake up at 5 am to walk all the way to the other side of town and then catch a bus to a nearby town, Celaya, to sell what they had harvested. While there, my father would go to a nearby wasteland to find any old toys or clothes others had thrown out. This was a continuous thing until my dad, at the age of 15 decided to come to the United States, with nothing else other than a few extra pairs of raggedy clothes, that he had gotten from the wasteland. My father stayed in Texas to help provide

There we are, Shelly and I, waking up early that Saturday morning to a hustle and bustle of pumping up ring tubes, packing coolers, walking to the store in the blazing heat, and preparing for the days events. Shelly, being a close childhood friend and later girlfriend of my father, Jeremy, we immediately had a close connection to one another. We had arranged to meet at Stout’s beach, this is not the actual name, but it was named that for one of my dad’s friends Jason Stout, and he was also a close childhood friend of my dads. There were so many of my dads friends who came in support of his memory. Many of these people he called friends he had known since he was a small child. The feeling I had greeting his childhood friends