What Makes A Day?

In the whole entire span of my short life, just a mere 13 years, I have just barely begun to grasp the true meaning of family. However, just recently, my grandfather, age 89, has been hospitalized and is currently on the verge of death. I have not been very close to him, but on the day I received the news, I felt like in an instant, the whole world was against me. That moment sparked a moment of realization in me.

As retired grandfather he lives for his family and for his memories back in the good ol days. He lives with my uncle, Julio and his family in San Salvador, El Salvador. Everytime I go vist him or him vistit me, he tells me stories about his past. Sometime he tells me stories about my father when he was a

There have been countless influential people in my life that I’ve come across. One who was a meticulous inspiration continues to be my grandfather. My grandmother had remarried to the one I call “grandpa” when I was at the age of five, and they both took to each other’s grandchildren as their own. With my mother and me only living a mile down the road from their farmhouse out in the country, I’d spent heaps amount of time there as a child. Indeed, I had been without a father but my grandfather stepped up to the plate and had taken me under his wing and willingly played the personification of a father figure.

I never really knew my grandpa as well as I would have liked. He was already an old, old man by the time I started high school, and my own memories of him are mostly of a man confined by age and ailing health. So I'm not really going to talk about my memories of him. Instead, I'm going to try to share his memories and the memories of those that knew him.

In 1912 a child was born his name was Everett Babcock (1912-1974), he eventually would become my grandfather. In 1937 he would marry my grandmother, Mary McFarland (1910-1969) and they would have 3 children Everett Babcock (1937-2017) my father, Edna Mae (1940-2004), and Thomas (1944-2008). Everett worked as an auto mechanic and Mary as a beautician to support and provide for their 3 children. In 1969 Mary was diagnosed with colon cancer and die a short time later, 5 years later in 1974 my grandfather would be diagnosed with lung cancer but would suffer a heart attack and die. Since I was still a young child and didn’t live close to my paternal grandparents I don’t remember what the relationships were like. The most I remember is when we

Thanksgiving isn't only just about fun, it's also about being thankful for such a blessed life and bonding closer with family. It's great to be together, and we are lucky to have such an amazing life. We are all thankful for the many years of family and fun in our lives to

Welcome Back! Here’s hoping your Thanksgiving holiday break afforded you the joy of family, the gift of friends, and the very best from our extended weekend. Thanks to you and our dedicated staff, our children have had a seamless transition back to a wonderful week of learning.

He came alone from Mexico in the year 1973, a year in which the improvements of the 1950s and 1960s were already coming to an end. He had left his wife and three kids behind in hopes of finding a better life for them. He saw America as the land of opportunity and loved everything about it even though he had such a hard time finding work in the beginning. Despite the fact that the median paycheck doubled in the 1970s and blue-collar workers were supposedly making financial progress, it took about 20 years before my grandfather could be reunited with the rest of his

For a college student, there’s no feeling quite like the joy of heading home for Thanksgiving break (1-Archetypes). Sure, Christmas break is longer and definitely has more presents, but Thanksgiving break is at just the perfect time in the middle of the semester; right before the chaos of finals and right when the agony of missing home is starting to become unbearable. I definitely felt this way during my first semester away from home. The days leading up to the break were full of exciting jitters and anticipation. Finally, just a day before classes officially let out for the break, my mom and brother pulled up to my dorm after their nine-hour drive to Alpine, Texas, ready to pack me up and haul me back to Houston.

One day after I finished drawing the image of a turkey at school, I took it home and showed it to my mother, then asked her if we would eat a turkey on Thanksgiving. To my surprise, she said, “No why would we eat a turkey and what is Thanksgiving?” I explained to her that Thanksgiving was the day that everyone eats turkey and gathers with their family to celebrate the turkey. My mother was very confused at my response and neglected my offer to celebrate that holiday, but I continued encouraging and persuading her to cook a turkey on Thanksgiving. Hearing all my peers talk about Thanksgiving made me even more excited and look forward to that day. As the days continued in school, I continued taking home poems and songs about Thanksgiving to my mother and family. My teacher gathered all the students in the classroom, and had us practice a

My grandfather, J. King Burk, is a man of very few words, but if you get to know him you will come to find that he has been through a lot in his lifetime. My brother and I have a connection with him that most grandchildren don’t have with their grandparents because he was with us when our parents separated. He understands how difficult it is to be raised by one parent, he helped raise my brother and I, and I go to him when I’m making important decisions.

Thanksgiving is a day to give thanks to your life and everyone and everything in it. Thanksgiving is thought of in different ways and is celebrated in unlike ways. Families have divergent meals, places that they visit on Thanksgiving, and activities that they enjoy taking part in on Thanksgiving. Overall, no matter what traditions there are, what meals you have, or the activities enjoyed on Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving is truly a wonderful holiday.

For many people, Grandpa is a storyteller, someone to go fishing with, and someone who has your back no matter what. The experience I had with my grandpa was a little different. I never got the opportunity to meet my great-grandfather Liston Grider, but he still somehow managed to have a huge impact on my life. Sometimes my mom would tell stories about him; happy memories from her childhood, sad ones that were painful for her to tell, and everything in between. I thought I had heard it all, but this past summer I learned something about my great grandpa that would perhaps impact my life forever. This story was not told by my mom like usual, but by someone who was a complete stranger to me. The lessons I learned would not be taught in a single day, but over the span of a month through a series of Facebook messages and letters in the mail. The words I read upon opening those messages and letters would change my life forever, permanently transform my beliefs, and show me what it truly means to be an American.

My great grandfather Bob Howell, who we called Papa Bob, was one of the greatest men ever in my opinion. He taught us many things, from how to treat one another to how to get through life accomplishing many things. Not too long ago he had experienced a fall. My cousins were outside doing yard work and had came in to get a drink, when the youngest heard someone. She saw papa Bob laying on the ground of his bathroom floor, and ran to get her sister. I got a call from her saying that she couldn 't get a hold of any of our parents. I started to panic and called my parents over and over until my dad answered. Papa Bob made it to the hospital, had scans done and got checked upped, but they said he was fine. As months went by he was never quite himself again, I blamed it on the fall secretly, but the doctors never found anything. It was getting worse and worse until he was put in the hospital. I knew his time was coming and I tried to spend time with him and listen to his stories when I could.

When we were together we were invincible, us against the world. I’d look up to him, not only because he was 6’4, but because he was my grandpa. I have clear memories of him picking me up from school, playing old school reggae music during our adventurous car rides. We’d always sing along to our favorites, sometimes turn the music up so loud the people in the cars next to us could hear it. When I would visit his apartment, the familiar smell of drywall and pennies would fill the air. It was my hideaway, my home away from home. My grandpa collected pennies in water jugs. He would say that one day they’d be worth more than just pennies. I loved it there, not only because he had a freezer filled with many flavors of ice cream to which he would often say to me “you can have all you can eat” but because it was our time to bond. For five years it was my mom, my dad, and my grandpa helping me to grow. Those are my favorite people, my role models. Being around my grandpa brought me such comfort and joy.