The Most Wonderful Part Of My Life

I started playing volleyball in 6th grade. My friend Abagail had wanted me to play for our school, so she would have one friend on the team. From there I wasn’t sure if I wanted to play volleyball. I had never watched volleyball and never played it either.

As a child, Bob was very close to his family. Robert C. Beech was born on January 8th, 1939, in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. His loving mother and tough father raised him along with his older brother, Milton, and his younger sister, Elaine. Bob’s father, Milton Joseph Beech, once gave him a baseball glove with no padding, the message being “toughen up.” His mother,

He loved his children very much; he always believed that ‘the only wealth in this world is children, more than all the money, power on earth’. He built a great family, one that can continue to build up the business in the future. Unfortunately, my father and I did not have the best relationship, one that was full of ups and downs, we had many disagreements, especially about the business, but I know that deep down he always cared about me as much as I did. I will always be grateful for all the things he has done for me in his life.

On July 23, 2015 I experienced something that was extremely life changing for me. This day I accomplished something I have been dreaming about doing for over 10 years. The day I got to see my favorite band live in concert was the day that I will never forget. The goal for a lot of people is to see their favorite band in person and to say I got to do that is amazing to me. My experience seeing my favorite band live will be remembered forever as being one of the best experiences I’ve had in my life.

Pass. Set. Spike. Serve. Dig. I have heard these words surround me since I was young. Sports have played an important part of my life since I was young taking a parent-and-me swim classes at the local YMCA. I was that kid who played almost every sport out there, from karate to soccer to basketball. Even after all that, it still took me still took me years to find my true passion as far as sports go.

“THEY HAVE CARAMEL POPCORN,” I yelled to my friends. They didn’t seem to care, but on an elementary field trip there is always so much going on that even caramel popcorn can seem boring. We were in the old student building of the University of Washington and the lunches were blowing my mind. Compared to the reheated-by-microwave slop they plopped on my tray everyday back at school, this cafeteria was a feast for the gods. I knew I had to go here someday, if only to be able to get caramel popcorn every day for lunch. Despite not recognizing the brilliant architecture, wonderful academics, and prestigious reputation, I think I had my priorities right as a kid. The popcorn, to be fair, was delicious.

Growing up carma was something that always followed me. Knowing that, I always tried to be the best child I could be. Although, sometimes I would stray away from that thought. Each time I did something wrong, something bad would happen in return. Knowing that, you would think I learned my lesson at the age of seventeen, but nevertheless, I didn’t. My actions caught up with me and I had to pay the place. After that one particular accident, I learned my lesson. I learned to always tell the truth and never be afraid to just ask. I got in many troubles that could have been avoided by just asking.

Robert Duvall an American actor and filmmaker once wisely stated, “Not every successful man is a good father. But every good father is a successful man.” This quote reveals just how fulfilling and important a true father’s job can be. A father has many responsibilities, yet his family should be a priority in his life every day. No matter what else is going on around them, a father must bring his family together and show them Christ’s love. The role of a father encompasses many different duties. Yet, a man begins learning fundamental qualities early on in life that will help him raise a family later on. In order to become an excellent father, a man must first master the skills of leading, providing, and protecting.

Stories, can make someone laugh, cry, get angry or can just make them think. They can be witnessed by the eye or thought out in our minds. Whether or not we believe them, well that's our choice, true or not, and that's the beauty of them.

Growing up in the middle of Ohio with neighbors, no closer than a mile down the road made for a good chance that an ornery eight-year-old boy to learn all the fun tricks from his father. I loved living in the country, you could do just about anything you wanted without getting yourself in trouble. My father, Rich worked out of town during the week to support our family. When the weekends came I knew that meant it was time us to spend time together and for me to learn his ways.

My first important eventful part of my life is the birth of my little brother Lucas but I may call him pukas because we’re brothers that’s what we do.

I, Jacklyn started playing volleyball in 7th grade. My friend Diana wanted me to play for our school, so she wouldn’t be alone. I was nervous because I wasn’t sure if I wanted to play volleyball to make matters worse I had never watched nor played volleyball in my life.

The adults always seemed to talk once I was across the room. As if the fifteen feet of distance between us inhibited my understanding of tone, and stress. When I saw Nana Sandy take the most of the stress, I would approach the adults and wait for my invitation to climb onto her armchair, into her lap; and it would always come. “Come here, Jovian,” she said with the softest smile on her face, arms held out. I would push myself off the ground, making it onto her lap, thanks to her support. Nana Sandy’s apartment was warm – not in temperature, but in feeling. Even when tension between the adults fell on my shoulders, there was no place I would rather be. The lighting was dim (to ease Nana Sandy’s headaches), and there was hardly anything typical to entertain a child with. But there were books, not academic books, but fun books. Two books in particular that she would read to me over and over, and I would never bore of. Nana Sandy had in her apartment a display of curious clown statuettes. I never asked why, but it made sense. People just have their things.

When I was younger I always loved action movies. I always loved to watch hand to hand combat. It just seemed so fun to watch. I always only watched the fighting parts and skipped everything else. Watching people fight made me so happy and pumped up. I would feel so confident and motivated. So, one day I was thinking of the most imaginable thoughts. I started playing movies in my head of me fighting bad guys. Saving the princess from the evil ninjas. Saving the damsel in distress from the half human, half dragon, man. Undercover cop fighting Backstreet thugs to save a woman’s purse. Being the hero and saving the day. All the things you could day-dream about when you’re a kid. I always played games with some sort of fighting tactic too. Mostly a game called Assassin’s Creed or Prince Of Persia. It just was so fun to me. I felt like I had a connection to hand to hand combat. But, I knew that a lot of discipline and hardwork will follow. If one day I was a real fighter.

I took a deep breath. I could hear casual laughter and murmurs as friends behind me quoted “classic” lines from Billy Madison. How could they be so nonchalant? My cue was coming up. What if I missed it? What if I tripped? What if I forgot my lines? Worse yet, what if the audience glimpsed past the façade of my gregarious character? What if they saw (and judged) the real me?