On July 9, 1988 I was born into this world. I was the youngest of three. I have an older sister and brother. My mother is Caucasian and my father was biracial with African American and Indian. I grew up in the country but urban area of Byhalia, MS. My father owned a warehouse and worked daily so my mother could dependent on him and be a house wife. Out of my siblings I was truly a daddy’s girl. In August of 1994, I began kindergarten at Henry Jr High. In school I was always the shortest out of my friends and the most dominant. I started to play peewee basketball in the 3rd grade and continued to move up and play during my school years. I always made good grades and very seldom visited the principal’s office for a paddling but when I did it was joking around not for bad behavior. At the end of my 4th grade year, my father lost his fighting battle with cancer. My father was diagnosed when I was in the second grade and have his right lung removed due to a massive tumor. The doctors thought they removed it all but it slowly moved to his brain and turned him into a vegetable in front of my eyes. My daddy did not want to die at a hospital so my mom respected his wish and placed him in hospice care where he had a hospital bed and other necessities at the house. On May 15, 1999, my daddy asked my mom to …show more content…
While at Memphis, I got my first job as a security officer at a local casino in Tunica. Within 6 months at my job I was promoted from security officer to a surveillance operator at our sister casino. In October 2015, my world stopped for a moment once again as my best friend and someone I dated for several years was shot and killed by his neighbor. After his death, my passion for criminal justice and social work grew stronger. In Dec 2015 I walked across the stage at the Fedex Forum and received my Bachelors of Arts in Criminal
The people who I look up to is my mom and my dad. Ever since I was born, they helped me with my problem that I have. Every day after school my mom would help me with my homework, because most of the time I don’t understand my assignment, that she knew how to do some math work, because I would forget how to answer my math, while my dad is at work. On his days off me and my dad would sometimes go fishing in the river or a lake, because he would like to spend time with. Other times we would go hunting for deer or bird, because it would be boring if we didn’t do
Father, computer server engineer, alcoholic, and felon. My dad, Jason Wayne DeHate, has influenced my life, not only genetically, but he has also improved my character and creativity throughout the years. Beginning at age two, I was cultured with profanity spit from rappers such as Eminem. While my mother was at work we had multiple videotaped “jam sessions” and coloring time that allowed for the foundation of friendship we have today. The jam sessions consisting of me mumbling and stumbling in front of the television, as he was “raising the roof” from his lazyboy. Since then, he has taught me how to rollerblade, change wiper blades, and play my favorite sport, tennis. Along with influencing my leisure activities and the music I enjoy, his prominent personality allows me to grow as a person. Being the only male figure in my immediate family, I
Before I go on to celebrate my mother and what she stood for I must share with you the reality of what life was like for my mother and the family since she was first diagnosed with cancer in October. Of course, nobody suffered more than my mother, but Dad you’re definitely second. We all shared my mother’s pain. It was like we were all on trial.
I was born on September 3, 1895 to my parents, William and Mary Hamilton Houston. My father was a lawyer. He ran a law firm catering to middle-class blacks, and he was a good at his job, so we got to live in a nicer neighborhood. My mother was a teacher, but she gave it up for the better pay of a hairdresser. Mama could easily pass for a white woman, but she was so proud of her race, she wouldn’t let anybody make that mistake.
Over the next few days, we took it easy. I went back to work. My mom was getting worse as each day went on with a few good days in between, of course. We ended up moving my niece Lexi’s birthday up a few days because we wanted to make sure my mom would be there for it. She, my mom, couldn’t talk as well anymore, but she made the effort to sing for her granddaughter. The day before my niece’s actual birthday, my mom passed away. Her wish had come true, too. She had wanted my dad to be the only one in the room when she went.
I was born on Wednesday July 26, 1978 and named Sherry Nicole Dickerson. My mother, a Caucasian woman named Donna, and my father, an African American man named Fred, were both only 21 years of age when I came into this world. With times changing, but still not there yet, their biracial relationship quickly dissipated after the birth of my sister only 14 months later.
In Anne Morgan Gray’s essay, “Daddy’s Loss,” she discusses her time growing up with her father and his missing hand. An aspect of the narrative that stood out to me was Gray’s father and his self-consciousness about his hand. I have tried to conceal many things in my life, therefore I understand the fear and dismay that Gray’s father must have gone through, even if my experiences were not as extreme as his. My experience in childhood sports was very similar to Gray’s father’s experience with missing hand. Sports have always been something that I enjoyed.
I am in school to obtain my Associate’s degree in Criminal Justice and corrections. It is going to be a lot of hard work but I know that I am an outstanding person that will make a difference no matter how long it takes me but I will succeed and become that role model I have always wanted to
Becoming a mom at sixteen was the hardest thing I have ever done. Trying to work, go to school and take care of my daughter seemed impossible. My mom was always there to support me, but from the moment I found out I was pregnant I was determined to do it on my own. When you become a mom at sixteen the paths you can take in life change, and you are no longer a teenage you become an adult really fast.
My father passed away in 1991, two weeks before Christmas. I was 25 at the time but until then I had not grown up. I was still an ignorant youth that only cared about finding the next party. My role model was now gone, forcing me to reevaluate the direction my life was heading. I needed to reexamine some of the lessons he taught me through the years.
I was in fifth grade when my paternal grandfather was diagnosed with cancer. He was in his final stages, when we found out. My parents immediately made plans for India, and we left within a few weeks. My grandfather passed away on September 22nd. This was a life changing event for me; it was the first time someone so close and dear to me had passed away.
As the contractions began to grip my stomach, I realized that my life would forever be changed. Knowing the old me had to die in order for me to become a new me. After being abandon at the age of five, I grew up feeling lonely and unloved. I was filled with so much anger, malice, hurt and unforgiveness that I held against others. I didn’t have the luxury of living in a stable environment, because growing up I was always living from home to home. I had no intentions to strive for better, I had begun to allow my upbringing to be my excuse. Years of disappointment resulted in me caring less in others desire. I couldn’t love anyone because love was never shown to me, but
A major problem in our society today is the absence of fathers in the home and in the lives of their children. I believe that growing up in a two parent household gives a child the best chance to be successful. My theory is that the absence of a father greatly affects the outcome of the child’s life and limits their opportunity for success. For the sake of this argument success will be measured by education level, mental state and crime. I will explore what effects, if any, the absence of a father has on these factors of success.
On the day my father died, I remember walking home from school with my cousin on a November fall day, feeling the falling leaves dropping off the trees, hitting my cold bare face. Walking into the house, I could feel the tension and knew that something had happened by the look on my grandmother’s face. As I started to head to the refrigerator, my mother told me to come, and she said that we were going to take a trip to the hospital.
Babyhood is the time from when you are born till you 're 18 months old. Like everybody else, I don 't remember anything at all from this time. Whatever I do know is from my parents, siblings and other family members. My mother told me I wanted to appear into this world earlier than I should have. If not for the medications that let me arrive at the proper time, I may not have been here today writing this very sentence. I was born on 19th December, 1999 in Gujarat, India. My parents tell me I was a very quite baby and never troubled them much at all. I would never start crying in the middle of the night, arousing the entire neighborhood. My older brother would often look at me, and state how huge my eyes looked. As a baby, I was very fair, and often was referred to a white egg. Everyone loved to play and touch my cheeks when I was a baby.