The 1940: A Short Story

It was 1916, just when World War I was raging. Daniel, a young soldier, sat on his cot, sipping a mug of hot chocolate. He peered out of the trench, over the horizon, scanning for any British. His dog. Snowy, an Alaskan malamute, yawned and plopped his head on Daniel’s foot. As the warm, creamy smell of cocoa wafted up his nostrils, he looked at the long scar that ran up from his left index finger to his shoulder. He remembered how just a month ago, he almost lost his life.

Walking down gradually from University Avenue to the park area is a descent from industrial buildings to a picturesque landscape. This green space on the east bluff of the river is mature and beautiful. The topography of the soil is varies and the ancient tree trunks lift the ground up with them. The meandering concrete paths lead you beside the river, and ultimately to the Stone Arch Bridge. Where the land and vegetation open up to carve out the bridge, a grand vista emerges. The bridge leads my eye and curves smaller and smaller over the Mississippi until the rise of the Mill ruins leads my sight up and the skyscrapers eventually lift my head to the highest point of the city. Here our entire history is visible, our artifacts are in the limestone and sandstone that is manipulated to build these old structures. The wealth of the flour industry is seen reincarnated to the present day through the thriving corporate businesses in the sky. This aesthetic relationship of the Mill Ruins and new wealth is so pleasing to the eye, the interest never ends. It is mind boggling, to live in an envelope of two eras, to see what was and what has now become. How would we know our modern buildings and societies are so grand without the memory of the old?

South Bronx in 1959 was rough. The roughest part of New York and to us probably the worst place to live in the world. Not only were we girls in the 50s which was unideal to us because I don’t know about you, but I don’t intend on spending all my days inside as a housewife. People underestimate us because we’re girls and it’s frustrating because I know I can do better. My mama always taught me better but never took her own advice saying, it’s too late for me, She cooks and cleans and takes cares for us. She does her needlework and not much else. My pop was a hardworking man. He worked down at the Motor Vehicle Assembly Plant. He brought home as much money as he could into our little apartment. Although I loved him for everything he did for us

In the Midwestern region of the United States, there is a town called Plymouth in the state of Wisconsin. It is a small welcoming town with one road running down the middle, invokes the feeling of home. At night, the street lights glow along the sidewalks; the houses along the road are inviting with landscaped yards, large wicker wreaths on doors and the warmth of families gathering around the table for dinner. In the corner of Plymouth sits a park, Meyers Park is nestled between the rolling farm hills and a slow flowing river to the south. The park is where I spent my childhood, a place where I grew into the person I am today. Meyers Park will always hold important memories I have made.

It's in the year 6000, the midwest region is now desert, due to global warming and continental drift. My team and I has been sent to the middle of the area. It was believed that there was once a river there, but it makes sense that it's now gone with average temperatures way above 100 degrees and very miniscule precipitation. Though this not all bad, there's plenty of discoveries to find here. In some block we found straight, pointed obelisk when a plaque. It took some time and good people to translate it. When do so believe it to say Memorial Park. Why honor those who die in battle, when the glory belongs those kill? What a strange people they were. The other different objects with the memorial, appeared to be some heavily weathered torture devices. We have no idea what to do or how operate them, but we all would love to see how they were in their prime and how they operated. That must also explain the pit also nearby, to put the bodies. Not to judge a race of people, but they have a different style to furnish parks with.

Old Park: June 10, 2016 at 11:00 A.M in Linda Ca, as I walked through the neighborhood to the park I was going to observe I noticed that all the houses around that park were all homes that looked like they have been there for over 50 years. When I walked through the gate to the park I noticed that the grass around the back of the park had dead grass. I was walking on a dirt path to the park. When I approached the park I recorded that there was only green grass around the park area and the front entrance. There are two entrances one in the front of the park and the other one is in the back. The sidewalk around the park is in the shape of a dog bone, inside of the sidewalk was filled with a pasty color bark. On the right side of the park on the sidewalk there were two picnic tables and between them was a barrel for trash.

“All off you wake up! We’re at war, and you rats have the gall to sleep? Wake up!” One of the men would shove me out of the small cot I was on.

Now in it’s final stages, the transformation of the lot was remarkable. Gone was the asphalt surface, replaced with a field of grass dotted with infant trees. The park bustled with activity, as the volunteers worked on their different jobs. A wheelbarrow rolled by, pushed by a man drenched in sweat. I watched a group install a bench, and, when the job was complete, approached one of the volunteers, Chris Leswing, to try to ascertain a clear idea of the group’s motives.

Walker Evan’s depiction of life and the people during the Depression of the 1930s is overwhelmed, depressed, and grim. A example of grim is the house, it looks old and dim with no light. Grim means uninviting so the house is that very much. The floor is wooden just like the walls and there’s cracks everywhere.There is only one bed in the home with only one window to. The clothes on the people are shaggy and falling apart. Another example is overwhelmed, only one person is wearing shoes? So this means that they are the only one working. This may make her overwhelmed by all the pressure of people in the household. For instance, the little boy in front may feel overwhelmed also due to the condition of house and the clothes that he is wearing.

The clouds are shining, the trees are singing, and the park is glistening. Throughout my childhood, during the summer months, I would try to go to Mason Mill at least once a week if not more; my family would stuff the car with all essentials like, a ball, umbrellas, sunscreen, chairs, and head out to the mini city we called our park. I remember my mother constructing large sandwiches stacked with unique ingredients, watching her make lunch was like watching an intense game of Tetris, each topping had to be placed perfectly. On our way to the park, we would chat about the week’s highlights, share jokes, and fool around. The day was young, and we were ready for the friendly yet exciting embrace that the park provides. Every time we visited, it

It was May 9, 1934. I was doing my usual Sunday papers. I was throwing them every which way, left, right, making sure I got everybody. Yeah, I’m the paper boy.

Our day was coming to an end but we had made just one last stop to Central Park. Around the 19th century the city had doubled in size and it was developing into the city we know today. Immigrants were forced to move into tenement buildings and the city began to see an influx of people in the streets. The city realized it was time for the city to change and so they bought 700 acres from 58th to 106th Street in order to create a new park. We began our stroll around the park and visited the Conservatory Garden. The garden is known to be the only formal garden in the park. The garden is also divided up into three distinct formal gardens: English, French, and Italian style. We had a chance to visit the English style garden. The garden was absolutely

The thirty-first of August was a day Dipper both loved and hated. It meant he had survived another year without Bill Cypher rearing his triangular head, but that he was a year closer to that eventuality.

A walk in the park is like a short journey to discovering your self. I casually stroll through the dense green, observing nature taking its course. I can hear the bird’s chirping their song, it’s as if they sing a beautiful musical piece. The flow of the gentle breeze brushing against my face also brings a joyous sense of relaxation. It is at this moment I feel calm and at peace with my self. The aroma of fresh air makes me happy that we have such an air to breath, where as others are not so lucky. I observe as I walk along the smooth black pavement, the giant, well defined hill that was made by man. The long, tall stairs that lead up to the top of the hill certainly seems endless. The lush green of the whole park was just an impressive sight to see. This is a beautiful show of nature.

The story that is about to unfold could take place anywhere in the US and for that matter to anyone, maybe to you? The decade, what would you prefer the 30’s the 40’s or maybe the 50’s or today does it matter probably not or does it. To put this story into words we will place the events in a delightful little village situated in a charming valley nestled somewhere in a beautiful part the mid-west not far from the Canadian broader. Massive ice sheets once ravaged this landscape and sculpted its current terrain uncovering some of the oldest rocks ever found on earth and where fur trading and agriculture were its earliest industries logging, agricultural and mining now