Growing up, I was very fortunate to have hard-working, loving, and supporting parents who provided my sister and I with a good life. A good life to me means having a roof over our head, meals everyday, an allowance for our basic needs, and family trips every so often. Last year on November 1, 2014 my mother Sandra and I decided to go to Los Angeles, CA to get some shopping done and have a nice meal at one of our favorite restaurants. Once we arrived to Los Angeles, we witnessed so many homeless people on the streets who are living in their tents and asking people for change at all times. This struck me because often times one does not realize how fortunate they are until they witness others who are struggling on a day-to-day basis begging
I wonder if I should I start calling Las Vegas, Nevada home now. I’ve traveled back and forth from California to Las Vegas since I was a child. I can remember at the age of thirteen my family and I would take family weekend trips very often. By the age of seventeen I was forced to move to Vegas for 6 months right before my senior year of high school started. Since it was my last year of high school my parents decided to let me go back to California for the last three months and graduate with my friends. Since I wasn’t eighteen yet, I forced to go back to Las Vegas right the day after graduation.
I spent most of my life surrounded by fragrant pine trees, rocky mountains, and sometimes extremely cold winters. At least one year ago, my family and I moved to a place that is the exact opposite of Colorado which was Phoenix, Arizona. Months before moving, we got rid of all clothing that resembled winter apparel because we all knew it was not going to be needed again. When moving to a new location, it the time to embrace new change, different cultures and certainly different weather climates.
“What should I do? Maybe if I tell them I really don’t want to move to California they’ll change their minds? Maybe it’s too late to change minds since we're already here? Why did we have to move so far?” All these thoughts were popping through my head as I stepped onto the plane, “We’re we really doing this? Were we moving to California?” I keep on thinking about all these things. “What was gonna happen tomorrow at school?” My thoughts were like a highway. The cars were each of my thoughts and the cars were zooming by me over and over again. All I think about is what lies ahead. Tomorrow was my first day at school and I felt like I was gonna puke.
As my family piled into our car for our four-hour drive, I sincerely hoped my brothers wouldn’t ruin the best chance that we’ve had in a long time. They were already arguing about who got what video game, and were not making my mom and dad feel any better about going. We were going to Illinois, to Chicago, to be even more specific. Chicago was the city I’d been dreaming about visiting for a long time. (Well, that and New York.) I could not believe that my parents were getting out of their comfort zone and taking us to a big city.
As the steps echoed off the metal walls in the brightly lit cabin of the airplane, the curiosity of a six year old was peeked. After a long 5,428 km journey across the North Atlantic Ocean from Cape Verde to Boston, Massachusetts, the plane had finally landed and the passengers were heading out towards their new destination, and I was one of them. Unbeknownst to me, however, my very first step on American soil was the start of an unyielding battle against the odds. My first steps off the plane had made my family and I immigrants, and
The information provided by the National Homeless Coalition (2009) regarding “why are people homeless” confirmed my notion that the increasing struggles in our economy has resulted in an increase in homelessness. The surprising factor that I neglected to visualize was the impact it had on children and families. When people think about the homeless, they often envision older adults on the streets. It is too painful to imagine that children are on the streets without food, water, or shelter. One family that I had the chance to work together with was with a mother and her three children. She had two daughters, ages 11 and 9 and a boy who was 2 years old. She is currently without a job and lives with her mother temporarily. She is one of the fortunate ones that have family members supporting her, but there were other stories of families living in cars and streets because of no support.
So I went to Las Vegas with my toddler Spanish and came back a boy! There was not many Spanish speaking people when I went. I was a bit of a creeper listening to random conversations wearing my cheap sunglasses. I would try my best to find the verb, subject, and object they were talking about. Basic words like sed, hambre, mira, mi, tu were common. Sometimes I would recognize the verb but could not figure out the verb ending kind of like trabajarldfkjsdpsb. I was asked a few times if I spoke Spanish and I always replied with “Hablo un poco”. They would then send a flurry of words in my direction as I stood hopeless trying to understand. Occationally I would muster up the courage to order in Spanish or to say anything in Espanol. It was incredibly
Growing up, I always had a nagging sensation in my heart that urged me to take care of anyone that was sick around me, doing whatever I could to make them feel better. As the years passed, I became more exposed to the world around me. I traveled around town and around the United States. I realized just how many people were far less fortunate than I. This new found knowledge struck a chord in me, being the naive child I was, I could not figure out how I could have so much while others have so little. When I was with my parents and saw a homeless man or woman crouching on a street corner, with worry lines strewn about their face, I would beg to go to the nearest store to bring them food. I continued to help those around me all through my
I finally made it to the lower part of SoCal where I've been meaning to go for over three years. There's been a "thing" (not that thing like in the doo wop song) set in my mind that San Diego would put an instant smile on my face, but for some reason I never found the right excuse to take a day or weekend trip. Like geez, maybe shut up and go Jo?
Old people have always broken my heart. I think this sympathy and love for the elderly stems from the deep affection I had for my great grandparents. They were the center of our tight knit family and always come to mind when I see an elderly person, which then reminds me how much I miss them. This was especially true on my recent trip to Las Vegas.
You know those dreams you have where you’re falling, and then suddenly wake up in a fright? Nobody likes those dreams, but I was hoping that I would pop awake from the nightmare I had in NYC.
On a normal of our everyday life, we find ourselves going to work or heading somewhere to meet up with a friend. While on the way there we pass someone that we don’t know sitting down on the ground alongside with him is a cart from a store filled with old clothes that either found or got from someone, some trash, maybe something small to eat to help with his hungry stomach growling throughout the day. You wonder how he got themselves into a position like that? Yet sometimes we know how he got there, although, we don’t always know someone else’s story. You leave some money by his foot to help get himself somewhere for a short time. Homelessness has increased over the years, from 1990s up until now. I believe that we can help these get back into a better environment for their life with the help of local shelters, food banks, donations from churches and schools, and many more things we can do in Licking County.
You don’t expect to wake up and find yourself without a home. For hundreds of thousands of people across the United States it is a reality. Many families in the Omaha, Nebraska metropolitan areas are just as susceptible. I have found that people view the homeless as a scar on society. However, the people that lend a hand are often like the nurses on a battlefield; they find the positive when everything around them is anything but positive. I knew I wasn’t that type of person, but I wanted to do something to help.
My heart was pounding as I boarded my flight leaving the Bangkok International Airport. A flight attendant in a grey dress with a red bow draped over her shoulder announced; “Welcome aboard flight AA350 to the United States.” My journey began that day.
Over the summer my friend and I decided to join the Coalition for Homeless Women. I learned a lot while visiting the numerous women shelters and I can admit that I too had very stupid and naïve perceptions of some of these women. Even though I was not as “rotten” as some of the girls I attended school with, my parents sheltered me. I will always remember walking down the street one day and as I passed by a homeless woman I handed her my dollar. My father immediately looked at me funny and said “Sonia, you shouldn’t have given her your allowance, she will only use it to buy drugs or alcohol. She will not use it for anything good!” At the age of ten those words resonated in my head for some time. My perception of homeless people was somewhat flawed until I was old enough to understand the world for myself. I was really happy when I visited shelters and spoke to some of these remarkable women. They weren’t on drugs, they weren’t alcoholics, and these are wo...