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Recommended: My Childhood Memories
Sitting peacefully on the Pier, I am reminded of childhood summers. Not too far off the sound of water trickling over the dam almost puts me into what seems like an endless daydream, only coming back to reality by a fish breaking the water. The reflections of the sun dances on the water as the ripples expand like sound waves over the surface. A nice cool breeze blows through the flowers behind me, bringing a sweet aroma to my senses. This induced the birds to sing back and forth like on those tranquil Sounds of Nature CD’s. I look up into the cloudless blue sky and feel the warm sun on my face, relaxing me after an early days work. On the Pier I have no worries, I am care free.
Sitting on the Pier, I am hot and sweaty from work. The scorching sun torments my body and makes worse the condition I am already in. The old grey boards under me burn my feet if I put them down for more than a few seconds. I close my eyes, and the low rumbles of trucks with big mufflers, and the annoying buzz of dirt bikes, ring in my ear. I tried to look up and see if I would be getting some shade anytime s...
It is often said that the setting of the story can change the character’s mentality and personality. In the classic vignette, A Summer Life, Gary Soto addresses his childhood to adulthood in Fresno in the course of a short vivid chapters. Born on April 12, 1952, a year before the Korean War ended, Gary experiences his life in Fresno of what he describes “what I knew best was at ground level,” and learns what is going on around the neighborhood with his religious background behind him. Later, when he realizes his father passes away, he undergoes hardships which cause his family to be miserable. Growing up in the heart of Fresno, Gary Soto, the author, explains his journey as a young man to adolescence through his use of figurative language and other adventures. The settings of this book revise Gary’s action and feelings around his surroundings.
The story of Summer, by David Updike, is set during that idyllic time in life when responsibility is the last word on anyone's mind. And yet, as with all human affairs, responsibility is an ever-present and ever-necessary aspect to life. What happens when the protagonist, Homer, loses his awareness of a certain personal responsibility to maintain self-control? Homer's actions increasingly make him act foolishly, internally and externally. Also, how does Homer return to a sense of sanity and responsibility? To a degree, I would say that he does.
The smell of the restaurants faded and the new, refreshing aroma of the sea salt in the air took over. The sun’s warmth on my skin and the constant breeze was a familiar feeling that I loved every single time we came to the beach. I remember the first time we came to the beach. I was only nine years old. The white sand amazed me because it looked like a wavy blanket of snow, but was misleading because it was scorching hot. The water shone green like an emerald, it was content. By this I mean that the waves were weak enough to stand through as they rushed over me. There was no sense of fear of being drug out to sea like a shipwrecked sailor. Knowing all this now I knew exactly how to approach the beach. Wear my sandals as long as I could and lay spread out my towel without hesitation. Then I’d jump in the water to coat myself in a moist protective layer before returning to my now slightly less hot towel. In the water it was a completely different world. While trying to avoid the occasional passing jellyfish, it was an experience of
“All summer in a day” by Ray Bradbury, is a story about jealousy, this is shown through this quote: “When people hate on you, it's because you’ve got something they want.” All Summer in a day is set sometime in the future, maybe soon or maybe far, and the earth is overpopulated. Margot was sent from Earth to Venus at the age of four. Margot remembers the sun, and for that she is constantly bullied and harassed, since the other school children don’t remember the sun like she does, because they were just two years old. “All Summer in a Day” has some very good themes, like jealousy, regret, and bullying. Jealousy can cause people to do things to the victim who has, or is something the bully desires. William was jealous of Margot for seeing the sun, so he locks her in a closet where she will miss out on one of the most
Increasing your knowledge in many cultural backgrounds can be beneficial to you and to understand how life is for other people with different cultural upbringing than you. Three stories I found that would be really interesting to not only the students but also to the other teachers that I could be working with are “From Shadows of a Childhood” by Elisabeth Gille, “From Catfish and Mandala: A Two-wheeled Voyage through the Landscape and Memory of Vietnam; Last Gamble” by Andrew X. Pham and “Shadows on the Wall” by Charles Mungoshi. I have chosen some articles that will provide more information on the topics and to help understand and explain that learning about other cultures will help the children become more educated with other cultures that
The California coastline is full of many beautiful beaches and breathtaking views. One of these places is the Santa Monica Pier, which is one of the oldest piers in California and has a rich history of change and resilience in spite of many challenges to its survival. If you arrive early in the morning before tourists swarm the amusement park side of the pier, the charm and nostalgia of the wooden pier transport you to a different kind of life, where nothing feels more important than the creak of the wooden planks beneath your feet, the fresh salty air, and the ocean that stretches out endlessly in front of you. Santa Monica
The poem “The Summer I Was Sixteen” by Geraldine Connolly is written in past tense and is trying to create a memory. The words he uses paints a detailed picture of what it was like during the summer that we all were 16. Adults who read this may find that they experience happy memories while they ponder on their past. The poet is attempting to show his readers the beauty of being 16. How simple it was, and the fact that we had no responsibility to weigh down our summer. In this passage he is expressing the different kind of experiences he has had over the summer and I too have had unique events happen.
“Experiences of young adults, having a parent with a mental illness” as the topic suggests deals majorly with the experiences that these adults had as children which in turn helped them pave their adult life.
The warm spring sun kissed my face as the wind whispered in my ears. As I lay beside the lake I reflect on my surroundings and how this wonder of nature came to be. It is Easter Sunday, a time of reflection and new beginnings. I think about my past few weeks, the places I have traveled and the people and things I have come in contact with. I wonder about my future, and I review my past. I notice a hummingbird delicately landing on a purple flower in the garden. I recall my readings from English class this semester, and I begin to relate to Muir and Wordsworth and the feelings they expressed about nature and themselves in their writings. I enter in to a somewhat trance as I fall in love with the bird dancing and kissing the flower so delicately.
This morning I wake early from the light that creeps underneath my blinds and my bed next to the window. I wake floating on the streams of light, heated, like white wax spilled across the floor, dripping, soft. In bare feet I walk down the stairs, cold on the wood, and find my father in the kitchen, also awake early. Together, we leave the house, the house that my parents built with windows like walls, windows that show the water on either side of the island. We close the door quietly so as not to wake the sleepers. We walk down the pine-needle path, through the arch of trees, the steep wooden steps to the dock nestled in the sea-weed covered rocks. We sit silently on the bench, watch as the fog evaporates from the clear water. The trees and water are a painting in muted colors, silver and grays and greenish blue, hazy white above the trees.
Walking on a land of gold, the sand being so soft and smooth, glistens as it reflects the suns rays with joy. Cool, light and refreshing, the breeze gently eases up against my skin and glides through my hair, sending a gentle shiver up my spine. The rustling of leaves, small array of birds and delicate splashes of the sea are amazingly soothing and relaxing. The whole beach itself looks like a painted picture with a spectrum of colours all merged with one another. The sea also showing off a wide range of colours that reflects of the surface, like a dancing peacock showing off its finely detailed feathers.
At its fundamental level, adulthood is simply the end of childhood, and the two stages are, by all accounts, drastically different. In the major works of poetry by William Blake and William Wordsworth, the dynamic between these two phases of life is analyzed and articulated. In both Blake’s Songs of Innocence and of Experience and many of Wordsworth’s works, childhood is portrayed as a superior state of mental capacity and freedom. The two poets echo one another in asserting that the individual’s progression into adulthood diminishes this childhood voice. In essence, both poets demonstrate an adoration for the vision possessed by a child, and an aversion to the mental state of adulthood. Although both Blake and Wordsworth show childhood as a state of greater innocence and spiritual vision, their view of its relationship with adulthood differs - Blake believes that childhood is crushed by adulthood, whereas Wordsworth sees childhood living on within the adult.
When I was a young child I would love to hear my parents tell me that we were going on a trip. I would be full of excitement, because I knew that we would be going to a place that I had never seen before. My parents, my brother, and I would pack our luggage and venture out in our small gray minivan. Three of my most cherished memories in our minivan are when we went to Disney World, the beach, and the mountains.
Fortunately, I wake every morning to the most beautiful sun lit house. I sit on my porch sipping coffee, while I drink in an atmosphere that steals my breath away. Rolling hills lay before me that undulate until they crash into golden purple mountains. Oh how they are covered in spectacular fauna, ever blooming foliage, and trees that are heavy with pungent fruit. Green it is always so green here at my house. Here where the air lays heavy and cool on my skin as does the striking rays of the sun upon my cheeks. I know in my soul why I choose to be here every day. Pocketed in all the nooks and crannies of these valleys and hills are stately homes, rich with architecture resplendent. Diversity is the palate here; ...
But we did go on the boardwalk almost every night. Every night seemed to be different. We tried to experience everything in a different way. Coastal Highway, not unlike the ocean, seems to go on endlessly. When we were near Coastal Highway, I put my window down and let the smell of the sand and sea waft into the car. The rain had started, but it was only a light mist. The temperature had cooled off now too. I decided to take an evening swim. Some of the waves were raising nearly 10 feet. In the evening when we all entered the beach some lifeguards were announcing that tides are so strong. Though I was not