Andy had to make the decision of choosing between his fatherly influences on his two sons or being able to financially support his family. If I was in his situation, I would choose the long-term path of being able to get a higher paying job to support his family. Though he may not have such a fatherly influence to his two sons, they will be able to realize his sacrifice is for their futures. Hearing many stories of my parents’ hardships, I am able to relate to the story from the author. My grandparents made the decision of leaving their homeland, Vietnam, to come to the United States of America. They gave up their prosperous lives which they had work very hard to obtain to start over again in a new foreign land. From there, my parents had to endure harsh lives of providing for their families in a foreign country which they did not even know its language. However, my parents were determined, able to educate themselves and obtained careers. Thinking of only long-term decisions, my parents are here today, providing for my brother and me as well as giving back to their parents. My parents gave up their personal interests for our futures. Our happiness and life style are because of my parents; they work hard every day to see us smile. For that, I am truly thankful to them and admire their long-term
While George and I share same social aspects we also share some personal aspects with each other. Like George, I was left without a father figure in my life. George’s father and my father left around the same time in our lives, which I find particularly interesting. Our fathers left when we were between the ages of seven and ten years old. As our fathers left we were looked at as the “man of the house” in our household. This might seem like a big responsibility for young boys our age but, we established ways to make a positive result for ourselves and those affected by the situation.
It was early in the morning, and I had just woken up because I hear voices and objects being moved around in my grandma’s kitchen. I got up from the bed and made my way down the hallway straight to the kitchen. Once I entered the kitchen I saw all of my aunts with my grandma kneading the corn flour. I just stood there by the wooden door and watched as my aunts would laugh and talk to each other while the kneaded the corn flour. It was a beautiful sight to see because of the sunlight that was coming in from the window was hitting their faces and making it look like they were glowing. I started to look around the medium size room and saw the big dining table in the middle of the kitchen leaving little space to walk around properly.
A young boy sits on the floor gazing up in amusement as his parents tell him stories that have traveled from generation to generation. Whether it be a tale of malicious war or brave acts of heroism, the little boy will always remember the impactful tales. But what about the parents; what is their motive for telling tales to their child? People tell stories for different reasons; a best selling author may write his story to sell books. While a parent tells a story to set their child straight, others simply want the thrill of telling tales of their adventurous life. For The Tao Jones ,or TJ, in Chris Crutcher's Whale Talk, the most impactful story he will hear and tell is his own. Someone might not solely tell their own story but, are also able to tell the story of those around them. Superficially, TJ’s story is one of brutal negativity and oppression. However, beneath the surface TJ and other peoples’ tale, is one of the unbreakable bond of brotherhood, unique self identity, and last chance at redemption.
I was four years old and playing with my cousin in the guest room of my grandfather’s home in northern Michigan. Despite the frigid temperatures and snow piled up to my nose, I looked forward to this trip every year. I rarely had the opportunity to see my father’s family, and I had no idea why. Just as my cousin and I shoved a copy of The Wizard of Oz into the VCR, my father entered and hurriedly scooped me up in his arms. “We’re leaving now,” he said, and exited the room. I pounded on his chest and yelled, but he made a beeline to the door. Just as we were about to leave, I saw a strange woman out of the corner of my eye. She was talking animatedly to my aunts and uncles, and I heard one of them call her “sis.” My dad called her nothing.
The community that my group members and I decided to chose for our project was the Native American student population on campus. The experience that I felt pushed me the most out of my comfort zone was the "Water is Life" discussion that they hosted on campus on February 21st. For this discussion they brought two speakers to campus, Angela Mooney D`Arcy and Ziad Abbas, to speak about the intersectionality between what the Native American community is doing for the water crisis in America and what the Palestinian community is doing in Gaza.
The next stories that I heard a lot about were war stories from my grandpa; these particular stories made me realize just how lucky I am and how good I really have it. Although he did not like to tell these stories, my aunt would badger him until he would. Once he got started though you could tell he enjoyed passing on the experiences that he has had. These stories made me realize that life is never predictable; he was my age when he was in Germany to fight for our country, and I’m sure he never planned on something like that happening to him just as I never could either. I could not even imagine carrying out the missions he was assigned, but it was still interesting to hear about all he has gone through.
Peering hopefully out the window yet again, I watched as my dad eagerly entered his truck without hesitation. As loud as a distant gunshot, its engine interrupted the previously calm evening. Down the driveway and onto the dusty, old dirt road, he disappeared to a familiar place where he remained until dark. I patiently waited for his return so I could ask about what he had seen. Imagining the beautiful scenery that was described to me provided a connection unlike any I have ever had before with my dad. Spending as much time as possible together was important to me; I was finally ready to accomplish this activity with him and make him proud.
My father, Dwayne, was born on a small island in the Caribbean, called Montserrat. Having humble beginnings, Dwayne lived on a farm and cared for his many animals along with his three younger brothers and sisters. Unfortunately, their mother had no choice but to immigrate to the U.S. leaving her children behind to make more money. Dwayne was very young when she left so most of his childhood was without his mother, being taken care by his father and his uncle Roy. Living in the countryside was bliss for my father, being a gifted and talented student, after he would finish his chores, schoolwork, and taking care of the many animals that was on the farm. He would go down to the black sand beaches near his farm and relax, but this blissful routine did not last and his life took an unexpected negative turn. One night a group of robbers came to his farm and tried
The story, started off with a garage sale. In my family we all get together to help the Grandparents of the family have a garage sale. We were all together at the end of the day, except my dad, and Aunt and Uncle, who were in the Cities. They were coming back to day, much to our excitement. The sun was setting behind the big maple tree in the front yard, and a dark truck, with its headlights shining through the darkness was coming our way.
"I've spent a few moments this morning reflecting on the few conversations I had with your father, and on the march of time in general. I'm one of the many, I know, who feels enriched from my association with the good family this man headed."