“That’ll do this batch, Paw.” Announced Earl as he tightened the lid on the last jug of shine for the night’s run. As he added it to the others in the back of his beat up Ford pickup, he glanced over at his sleeping dad haphazardly leaned up against an oak tree, his chest rumbling with a drunken snore. All too often, this was the way their nights played out; Earl would work the stills while Paw would drink until he passed out, leaving him to finish up for the night, but he never complained to his father; he understood what led to his Paw’s nightly search for the bottom of that mason jar. As he climbed into the back of the truck to make sure the delivery was covered and tied down, safe and secure, Earl considered how important this particular run was, the moneys raised that night would be used to pay the land taxes, thus protecting both their homes and their main income, these stills for the next year. After hopping into the cab and firing up the engine, Earl skillfully drove through the woods in the dead of night without so much as a path to follow. Even though his truck’s suspension would appreciate a cleared roadway, the couldn’t risk the revenuers following …show more content…
However, Jason’s dad was stopped at a police road block late one night with an illegal load of moonshine and landed himself in jail for five years; those Virginia revenuers didn’t play around when it came to busting up illegal distilleries or incarcerating those who distributed the shine. Unfortunately, he never saw his best friend again since Jason and his mom had to move back to Pennington Gap to live with her
Everything for a year had been leading up to this point and here I was in the middle of the happiest place on earth in tears because my friends had abandoned me in the middle of Disney on the senior trip.
The author then looks back upon the time in his life when her mother decided to drive Hunter Jordan’s old car. However, she didn’t know how to drive, and was generally afraid to get behind the wheel. On that day, she drove crazily on the road, and declared to never drive again. James McBride also reflected on his life up to a teenager, who knew that bad things would occur in the not too distant future if he didn’t change his ways and behavior.
A week after her mother’s death, she was moved to her stepfather’s home in Westchester County. He had owned two taverns before the prohibition hit his businesses violently. Soon after, the stock market crash would deliver the final blow, officially “knocking out” his last firm.
"Where is my dad at?" I said, thinking to myself, my dad has been just in the house. "He went to on the hill," said my mom. Wonder why he is up there for? Then I thought to myself he's probably weed-deting or something else up there. Then I got something to eat.
If I were to describe my life as a metaphor, I would say that it would be a dog that only knows the world within its bounds. Maybe a little like Courage the Cowardly Dog as well if I looked to the symbolic aspect of it. At home the world is normal and serene, yet the moment something passes through or you leave the house things can be skewed. The most normal of things might be seen as inhuman entities out to snatch your dearest ones away. That is the life of the unaware.
"Damn! I drove all this way for nothing." I said under my breath and turned to walk away. Mrs. Pepper grabbed me by my arm; stopping me in my tracks. Her face filled with emotion that I could not decipher. "Walker, I know you and I know a lot about you and I recognize your struggle but the streets ain't a place for a man like you, so don't let it take you under like it done swallowed me." There was no line in her words, body language or voice. I filled Steph in damn, as if my head were being flooded with hot lava. I heard what she was saying but I wasn't trying to listen, because my thoughts were completely emotionless as I blissful in my ignorance. I was getting antsy and now the drug was calling me. Running to my demons have become the order of the day only distantly aware of just how little normalcy life had become. reluctantly excepted that my chase for the drug was over. Mouthpiece, LoonyToon and Kung-Fu we're all out of crack the street were cold and the blacks were dry and empty. So, I decide to get a bottle and bathe in a river of cold sin. Coming out of the liquor store with a bottle of Hennessy black, a cognac buzz is the smoothest thing in the world even the hangover of it is like being squeezed velvet vice from a thought that managed to float its way to the top of my brain. Outside stood a homeless woman begging for change. Other people coming out of the store past the woman back, but I
Josh criticized on time here at school. He told me that I was a no good white trash short cracker. It was when he first moved here he didn't know anyone so he did not know who the big dog was around these parts. I felt down about it at first but then “then i realized that I was better than him because he called me names and I hadn't said a word to him. I am proud about the way I handled it. He hasn't called me a no good white trash short cracker since then. This experience has not change the way I offer feedback to others i'm still the big dog in these parts.
I have been lurking through this forest now for a week since waking up from hibernation. The last thing I had to eat was a motting carcass of deer, that wolves had cleaned off about a week prior. Even the maggots tasted good, as I was very famished. My little cub came running up to me as his paws scruffed the ground - “Mama mama” as little cub was frightened. I mama bear watched my little cub frightened from a two legs,“ little one come here I have a story to tell”. I was walking in sodden and through bog-holes looking for a carcass of an animal or something with flesh. My paws were abraded by the long paths long the county line road. It was in the middle of spring and all the animals were coming out of hibernation and I was one of them. I
I received a voice mail today from Sean McKnight stating he has a meeting setup with Ken Barber and some other individuals on the executive board of Illinois Joining Forces (IJF). I felt it was my duty to inform the group about some important facts that Mr. McKnight is very good at hiding. I met Mr. McKnight during my time at NIU. I just served my time as the NIU Veterans Club president and decided it was time to let someone else take the helm. Matthew Galloway the current Veterans Club president introduced the club to Sean McKnight at a veterans club meeting. Sean came in and presented himself as a seasoned veteran’s advocate who has many connections throughout the state of Illinois and Washington D.C. He promoted his organization that he was starting Warriors Guarding Warriors as a revolutionary concept that has not been thought of as for yet throughout the veteran community. Finally, he offered his services to any veterans having trouble with VA benefits or the medical process. At the time we did not know that he was not officially certified to help veterans, and nor did he actually know the proper process or paper work needed to help our fellow veterans. Sean offered to be the Veterans Clubs mentor. The club held a vote and
When I was six years old the doctor gave me my first pair of glasses. They were round, thick, and made my face look like a pumpkin. My vision has been worsening ever since. My last doctor’s appointment, I was told that I have a chance of my retina completely detaching...after he did the examination for my potential premature glaucoma. Blindness in my left eye seems almost inevitable. However, I am not afraid. My family started raising guide dogs when I was ten. Something that was always talked about in the GDB community was bond. Many raisers discussed the theory that the dogs only bond with whoever has the food bowl, while others thought that the dogs have a special ability to deeply bond with their blind person. Guide dogs for the blind and
Brick walls are always going to show up in our lives to prove to us how badly we want something. One brick wall that I have faced in my life has to do with when I was younger and played softball. I was the newest member of the team and I had never played the sport before. I was always interested in watching softball, and finally decided to play on a recreational team with my close friend. All of the other girls had played for a few years already, and had grasped the skill. I on the other hand, was just learning all of the skills and wasn’t the best. Each practice, I would really try hard to play at the same skill level as all of the other girls, but it was hard to instantly be good at something new. Eventually, the games started to begin and
A lady walks into the store huddled over, fidgeting with every move while looking over her shoulder as if someone is watching her. A juvey cop yells “ Ma’am” she freezes in her spot, looking for every possible way to escape. But she stays place and turns around with a smile “ Yes officer?”
Moving from a highly diverse community to a less diverse community has to be the weirdest yet interesting culture shock I ever had to deal with. As a young child, I did not know about the outside world. I thought everyone rides the bus or the metro, graffiti on the wall is normal and traffic wouldn’t matter as much since everything I needed was within walking distance sometimes. There were shocking things I learned once I moved to Nebraska.
All my life ,I’ve always wanted to be someone in life who can actually make a difference to this world in a positive way. Ever since I was a little girl I pushed myself to always best I can be just . I lived in a town outside Los Angeles, California , it was called Van Nuys,California.The elementary school (Kittridge Elementary) I had went to was in a low income area, mainly spanish community had lived in the area I was living in at the time .I had a lot of friends (mainly mexicans) I focused a lot on being on time for school , staying on task in class, and finishing my homework. At such a young age I had felt such ambition and was doing very good for myself. At the age of 10 was when reality start to really hit me , even though I was very young I started to see things differently.
“Why don’t you use your locker? You’re going to have back problems before you even graduate”. These are words that are repeated to me daily, almost like clockwork. I carry my twenty-pound backpack, full of papers upon papers from my AP classes. The middle pouch of my backpack houses my book in which I get lost to distract me from my unrelenting stress. The top pouch holds several erasers, foreshadowing the mistakes I will make - and extra lead, to combat and mend these mistakes. Thick, wordy textbooks full of knowledge that has yet to become engraved in my brain, dig the straps of my backpack into my shoulders. This feeling, ironically enough, gives me relief - my potential and future success reside in my folders and on the pages of my notebooks.