I moved to the house I now live in when I was three years old. I was so excited to move as this meant I was going to live closer to my grandpa. What I did not realize was what wonderful neighbors my family would have. Although the neighbors’ kids were all a lot older than my brother and me, they were always very nice and would play lots of different games with us. I thought this was so cool considering that they were all boys. The oldest boy, Jayson, had cerebral palsy. Jayson was 18 years old. He walked a little funny and talked a little funny, but he was so friendly. Jayson loved to play many different sports, but he was told constantly that he was not good enough to play and be part of an organized team because of his impairment. When I would go to the park to play with my friends, I would often see Jayson playing basketball on the park’s basketball court with his brother and some of their friends. He was not able to scrimmage with them as his legs did not move like mine did. When Jayson walks around his knees bow in and he is not able to straighten them all the way out. When I was seven or so, I got my first leg cramp, which hurt and I could not straighten my leg …show more content…
He would occasionally mention a girl in a conversation, but I never saw any girls with him. I always wondered why this was as I thought he looked like a normal guy. He is about 5’10” tall, has dark hair and a beard, wears glasses and is thin. He told my brother and me that he was not always the best with the girls because he had a disability and they did not give him a chance. Whenever he would talk this way about himself, it made me feel wretched for him. About six years ago, Jayson got up the courage to ask out a lovely girl in our small town and she said yes! I was very ecstatic for him and he was so excited. They got married four years ago and now are proud parents of a healthy three year-old little
Have you ever watched an Olympic athlete that has a physical disadvantage to the other athletes? In this day in history it is common to see people like this because these people have become determined to set aside their disadvantages in order to compete on the international stage and to motivate others. This is exactly what Olympic archer Brady Ellison has done in his lifetime. Diagnosed with Perthes Disease at a young age, Brady had to wear leg braces for more than one year of his young life but that did not stop his archery career. Brady received his first compound bow at the age of seven and his battle with the disease did not slow him down when he shot his first black bear at the age of eleven. Through his battle with perthes disease, Brady Ellison has
Thesis: Growing up in a certain neighborhood doesn’t have to determine where you go in life.
“Strength comes from struggle. When you learn to see your struggles as opportunities to become stronger, better, wiser, then your thinking shifts from ‘I can’t do this’ to ‘I must do this’ was said by Toni Sorenson. Through hardships comes growth, through growth comes opportunities. This is a popular theme explored throughout the short stories “Reflection: Growing Up Grown” by David Jacobsen and “The Storyteller” by Sandra Cisneros. Each has written about their experiences during trials and how their Latin roots influence their decisions in reaching their pinnacle. Both autobiographies reveal the journey they face in finding the voice within themselves and the strength to carry on. Coming from their strong heritage, Jacobsen and Cisneros are
Being the second oldest of eight children, there was never a dull moment in our house. Personality differences were common but the love we had for each other was obvious. With this being said, I am the only child out of those eight that has not only graduated high school but I am now working towards my Bachelor Degree in Elementary Education. We were a poor family and education was not on the top of the list of priorities. The first four of us were like stair-steps and seven years later came another set of stair-step children. My closest sister, Evie, was deaf and my mother sent us both to a school for the hearing impaired to ensure someone could communicate with her. I have fond memories of this school and the time Evie and I were able
Starting my freshman year at County High School, I played basketball and loved every minute of it. I wouldn’t be conceited enough to say I was good, but God did bless me with the talent to play. My life revolved around the sport of basketball; some would say I slept, ate, and breathed every part of it. I spent all my time training and practicing to make myself a more dedicated athlete. This dedication not only helped me as a player, but also molded me into the person I am today. It somehow helped to prepare me for what defeat I would face with back surgery in the future.
My dad was too small and weak, wasn't as athletic as other kids, and his skill level was average. My dad couldn’t drive into bigger players because he would get pushed around and pushed off balance. Another one of my dad's challenges were that he wasn't as athletic as the kids on the floor, so he couldn’t run as fast as everybody, or jump as high as the other guards on the team. Being a guard, he had to break presses so when he would change direction, the defense could stay right with him because he was changing directions slowly. My dad's most substantial struggle when playing basketball was that his skill level was just average.
During recess, there were a couple of students playing a game called double dutch. Double dutch is when two rope goes the opposite direction. Brianna wanted to play with them but she did not know how to jump with two rope. One of Brianna friends saw how sad she was she began to help her. This was shocking to me because most kids would just look at her and keep it moving. But that was really nice for Brianna friend to teach her how to double dutch. Couple days had past and Brianna had got the hang of it, and now she is able to play with them and not feel left out.
At the age of twelve, I fell in love with Haiti. A close family friend was planning a medical mission trip and she shared with us what she would be doing while in Haiti as we helped her prepare. Too young to go with her, I threw myself into doing everything that I could to help from home. I set up an information booth at church, collected and sorted supplies, and prepared a traditional Haitian meal for 100 people to raise money. I learned all I could about the people and the country, sharing that information with anyone who would listen. When I was fifteen, I was finally allowed to travel with our friend to Haiti on a mission trip. Preparing for the trip included learning about the living conditions in Haiti and very basic ways to make improvements.
So, I'm eighteen, young and wanting to experience the world on my own. So, I move out and try to start my life how I want to live it. Even though it's quite exciting, it’s a big step, and let me say it's tough. Even though it can be fun, while I may have wanted to do what I like, it was hard. This photo shows that even though it's hard things can be a little enjoyable at times, don’t let the hard times overweigh the good.
I could think of a place not that far away that use to be happy all day, everyday. The kids were able to stay outside until the street lights came on, having fun like there wasn’t anything going on. Its called our neighborhood. When we were younger there was not this much going on. None of the shooting, fighting and gang violence that's happening now. Everything has changed, people went a little bit too far on drugs, alcohol and stopped caring about their children, their future and everything around them.
Everything seems like it’s falling out of place, it’s going too fast, and my mind is out of control. I think these thoughts as I lay on my new bed, in my new room, in this new house, in this new city, wondering how I got to this place. “My life was fine,” I say to myself, “I didn’t want to go.” Thinking back I wonder how my father felt as he came home to the house in Stockton, knowing his wife and kids left to San Diego to live a new life. Every time that thought comes to my mind, it feels as if I’m carrying a ten ton boulder around my heart; weighing me down with guilt. The thought is blocked out as I close my eyes, picturing my old room; I see the light brown walls again and the vacation pictures of the Florida and camping trip stapled to them. I can see the photo of me on the ice rink with my friends and the desk that I built with my own hands. I see my bed; it still has my checkered blue and green blanket on it! Across from the room stands my bulky gray television with its back facing the black curtain covered closet. My emotions run deep, sadness rages through my body with a wave of regret. As I open my eyes I see this new place in San Diego, one large black covered bed and a small wooden nightstand that sits next to a similar closet like in my old room. When I was told we would be moving to San Diego, I was silenced from the decision.
When I moved into the house on 58th street and Mountain View, I was in the second grade. My twin sister and I were moving schools and it was a big point in my life. Until then, I had only known one house, one neighborhood, and one set of friends at school. And although we were only moving about three miles, the move placed us in a different school district. So, scared and uncertain, we started out at a new school. Like it usually was, it was very hard for a kid like me to find friends. But I had my sister as a companion and it was alright. Many afternoons I spent playing in the backyard with my sister and dog, and I had a great time.
Growing up in the same neighborhood for eighteen years can truly shape a person. I know this because I experienced it firsthand. I was only five years old when we packed up our belongings and moved right down the street. I do not remember a lot about the first house although, according to my parents, there was never a dull moment. I still remember the day we moved into my new house, the one my parents and sister still live in today. I had just started kindergarten, and I remember feeling anxious the entire day just wondering what was waiting for me at the new house. Was it big? Did I have a trampoline? What color was my wallpaper? The moment my mom picked me up from school that day I was suddenly relieved from all of my worries. I knew the
When spending time with my girlfriends I listen to the many complaints of early marriage and having children at a young age. The never ending conversations about how everything changes and your life is not your own anymore is a bore. From the lousy sex to cheating with the girl next door leaves me confused as to why divorce papers haven’t been drawn up, and then the famous expression, “I could’ve had a career and gone places,” seems to always end the conversations. But for me this is not the case. I simply dream of having a home that I can call my own.
It was the start of summer 2002, and the Mid America Youth Basketball (MAYB) national tournament was taking place in Andover, Kansas. Along with the rest of the team, I was excited to play some basketball for the first time since the middle school basketball season was over. Our team, Carlon Oil, had been together and played every summer for the last four years. We were a really good team, with an overall record of 65-4 over those four years and were hoping to continue our legacy. Lonnie Lollar, our coach for the summer, was also the coach of our high school basketball team. I had a history of groin injuries, and every summer it seemed that I would have to sit out at least a game on the bench icing my groin. But this summer was different, and I along with everyone in the gym wouldn't have expected my summer to end with a injury such as a broken leg.