Lyle Hite is my grandpa. He is my mom’s dad. His birthday is November 7, 1949. He was born in Wauseon, Ohio. My grandpa’s parents names were Corky and Aliene Hite. He has only lived in two places. These places are Wauseon and Delta. Grandpa Hite attended Wauseon schools. He is about two heads taller than me and has gray hair. He always wears a watch and glasses too. My Grandpa had many important times in his life growing up in Wauseon. When he was 4 years old he met a man named Dwight Brunner that had a hook for a hand. It scared him so bad that he grabbed on to his dad and hid behind him. Years later on a Saturday his middle school was blown up. Luckily no one was inside it. Mostly he enjoyed being a meat cutter with his dad
The day after my grandfather left Playku Central Highland the army was overran by the Vietcong and there began the hand to hand combat. My grandfather was really scared for his little brother because he was afraid he would never come back, and...
My guiders and I were excited when we hit Fort Carson. They were the first buildings we had seen in weeks. As we were walking their was a sudden shot, then I heard something hit the ground. In the next few moments, my main guider had grabbed one of the smaller guiders ,and threw him in the steering seat with anger. After that incident, I never saw my main feeder again, just the smaller guiders feed me.
The older person that I interviewed was my great-grandfather, Kay Wilson. He is eighty-three years old and is currently retired, living at home. Wilson was born on February 27, 1934 and raised in Sylacauga, AL by his mother. His father was not active in his life, but his grandparents were his main caretakers growing up.
My grandfather was asleep one night on a Coast Guard cutter when another ship, a destroyer, appeared in the distance. The destroyer hit my grandfather's ship in the exact spot where he was sleeping. When he awoke, he found himself in the freezing water, watching his friends swim ashore to safety. They were leaving my grandfather there to die.
My most life changing experience was when I moved from the sunny skies of North Carolina to The Blizzard, more formally known as Germany in the middle of my second grade year. My Step-Dad was active duty in the military. Of course, he had to drag us with him. He flew out to Germany first so for about three weeks it was just Mom and I. Just about every day Mom would say “Two more weeks till Germany, Tarix”, “One more week till Germany, Tarix” (Rich), which I never took to heart. I was too caught up in deciding what my Barbie was going to wear that day and riding my new tricycle to have time to process her words. Ignorance was bliss until the movers came to our house and packed up all my memories into big brown boxes. The night before
I interviewed my dad Steve Wilhelm and he is my dad. He was born in 11/24/1966, in the wood county hospital. His siblings were Terri, Audrey and Amy and his parents were Marvin and Betty. The places he has lived is, Custar, BG, and more places. The schools he attended was S.L Catholic school, BGJHS, BGHS. What he looks like is or his physical description is strong or muscular, tallish and a little bald, and more.
In August 2005, at the tender age of 7, I received the most devastating news. I was told by my family that a hurricane was coming to my city, New Orleans, Louisiana. Because of this storm, Hurricane Katrina, I was told that I would most likely have to move away for a long time, meaning the rest of my life. My family and I lost everything, and the hurricane ended up destroying the entire city completely. This was heartbreaking to me for a plethora of reasons, including that I lost loved ones and was separated from the rest of my family at such an early age. This ravaging storm marked the most drastic change of my life.
Seven people were killed at White Oak in the year and a half I was there. I knew three of them. One was a friend.
I did not know it at the time, but in November of 2005, I was knocking on death’s door. I was living in Naperville, IL with my girlfriend and her family. It was a few days before Thanksgiving, and the family was preparing for the holiday celebration. I was starting to feel a bit under the weather, but it was flu season.
My youth pastor pulled out of our church parking lot at three am in the morning loaded down with a bus full of twenty four teenagers including me. We were off at last head to Colorado Spring Colorado, little did I know, our bus was going to fall apart this very day.
Growing up as a kid I lived in Flint, Michigan. It was a very dangerous city. There we a lot of deaths and there weren’t any good job there. I lived there until I was 7 years old. At 5 years old I went through family troubles and I couldn’t see my mom. At the age of 7 my dad was working in Oklahoma and he would be gone for 2 weeks at a time. To make it easier on us he decided to have our family move there. I started school here in Burns Flat in the third grade. My first ever friend was Ryne Garrison. I was a shy person. People may not believe it but I was and I still am.
After Mother died, we moved for a while to Hooterville in Oklahoma City. I remember all those families living in rusted out car bodies. One family was living in a piano box. This wasn't just a little section of town, Father later told me the size of Hooterville was 10 miles wide and 10 miles long.
Under the guise of "heading out to do some yard work," my father took on the dubious and dangerous task of attempting to rid his treasured flowering crab tree of a hornet's nest, reported by my mother to be the size of a large, ripe watermelon. Armed with the starter for the barbeque, the garden hose and a rake, Dad approached the tree and offending nest with the determination of a front line soldier ordered to advance on the enemy line. His plan was to set the nest on fire (yes, while still attached to the tree) and then douse the ensuing inferno with the garden hose. Coming upon the nest, Dad stealthily lit the barbeque starter under the huge hornet hive and stepped back as it became engulfed in flames. With his trusty garden hose in hand, he immediately began his attempt to extinguish the flames before the tree, the house, the whole neighborhood caught on fire.
As children people seldom think about their future, what they don’t realize is that their childhood is creating their future. The things that people experience during their childhood makes them who they are as adults. Which I believe, is why every person in the world is so different, we all went through different experiences. This viewpoint has motivated me to interview my grandfather to learn about his childhood, and maybe get some insight on how he has come to be the incredible man I know. I was not disappointed, my grandfather shared so much information with me, lots of things I had no clue about. My grandfathers name Gary Summerton, he is a young 64-year-old man with dreadlocks and a ginormous heart. His greatest loves in life (besides me of course) are the mountains, his bike and travelling the world with my
Pittsburgh and Lake Erie Railroad, he would put in long hard hours, to support his family. His mother was forced to work during World War II, she worked at a mill doing riveting work, later she worked at Bell Telephone. They were a very loving family, but work came first, this left very little time for their kids. My grandfather being the oldest son, was expected to help out more, one time when he was about twelve years old, his mom told him “Bobby, go to the store, and get me some bread” he said “OK.” Even though he did not want to go get it, he did it anyway, but as he went to get the bread, he became angry that he had to go get it, so when he got back to the house he had thrown the bread onto the roof of the house. This story has great meaning to me, because