The birds were singing. The sheep were bleating. The voice of playing kids was evident. The morning sun was already walking high in the sky. My grandfather’s village was in the rhythm of a vibrant life. This is despite that the village was under the control of the insurgents, who could come over and ask for food. They needed it so that they could go to the battlefields: my hometown. It was then required for the village to supply the insurgents with food on the fourth Saturday of each month. Some of those who did not comply were retaliated. But the people of my grandfather’s village learned to cope with those new circumstances. It was tough for everyone.
That morning sun marked almost two months that my family and I came to my grandfather’s village. My dad and mom had finally reunited. How lovely can it for a kid to see his or her parents together! It was lovely that we reunited as a family, and as I remember when my mom and I got to the
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The village was on fire. The village was assailed. The gunshots were raining on it. People ran in all directions. We ran too and crawled through the grass. The bullets were flying above our heads. I ran fast, alone. My dad was holding my young sister in his two hands. My mom was holding my youngest brother on her back. Another young brother was running with me. I could hear screaming voices with fear of death. The only thing I had left was to run as fast as my heart was beating. My life still was at stake. My family life was still at stake. The death was near to me, to my family. The death was chasing my family and me now. My grandfather’s village was now on fire. It was now invaded by those who were supposed to protect civilians. In the secrecy of my heart, I prayed, and cried. As I ran, my heart was beating with the chorus as follows: I want to live! I want to live! I want to see the tomorrow sun, with my own eyes. Oh, my good God! What has this people
Four years ago I lost a very special person in my life from cancer. My grandpa's death had a huge impact on my life along with my other family members. My grandpa was my biggest fan and probably the Wisconsin Badger's as well. Every game I could look into the stands and he would be there. Since he has passed, before every basketball game I think of him saying "Shoot a couple 3's for me tonight". I used this as an inspiration to do my best in every play of the game. My grandpa helped me set personal goals such as making fifty three's in a season, which I accomplished my last game of my junior year.
Motivation is perhaps the most valuable aspect to one’s personality, and its something that I believe you are born with. I support the idea that what you’ve got in your blood really does make who you are. Thats why I always take pride in representing my family and our heritage. Being brought up by dad, a classic Italian, I guess you could say I am a proud individual and I have got a decent set of morals. The Firenzi family, has gone through their fair share of trials and tribulations to end up where we are today.
In the story “Home Soil” by Irene Zabytko, the reader is enlightened about a boy who was mentally and emotionally drained from the horrifying experiences of war. The father in the story knows exactly what the boy is going through, but he cannot help him, because everyone encounters his or her own recollection of war. “When their faces are contorted from sucking the cigarette, there is an unmistakable shadow of vulnerability and fear of living. That gesture and stance are more eloquent than the blood and guts war stories men spew over their beers” (Zabytko 492). The father, as a young man, was forced to reenact some of the same obligations, yet the father has learne...
The only thing I can think about is food. I don’t think I can remember the feeling of having a full stomach, or my thirst quenched. Even the feeling of strength, of movement has left me. There’s no getting those feelings back until the war is over. The only thing that can be truly felt is the burn of the cold, and the fear. The fear is everything, consuming my thoughts, vision, and blurring the days together. It’s almost strong enough to overpower the hunger and thirst. I fear for my family’s safety, their sanity. My mother has started to go mad from the stress of taking care of my two younger sisters and myself. The war has stolen many things from my family; my father, brothers, home, everything. Even the sky is crying for us as it smudges my writing and blurs my vision even more.
In the past couple years, I faced emotions of loneliness, worthlessness and even depression. I spent those years trying to figure out what was the cause of these serious emotions and one of the answers that I stumbled upon was when I finally talked to a therapist about dealing with my depression. The simple answer was the relationship with my family and the environment I was in; Figuring out what to do about it was the next giant leap. Throughout history, America has been known as an immigrant country that uses the phrase “The American Dream” over and over, but what is it really? “That dream of a land in which life should be better and richer and fuller for everyone, with opportunity for each according to ability or achievement.” (James Truslow
I have a lot of fond memories looking back on my childhood. My dad’s parents had a house on Granbury Lake; it was a kid’s paradise. I grew up fishing, which is my favorite thing to do, boating, water skiing, 4-wheeling, anything you could do outdoors we did it. My grandparents had a massive garden and rows of fruit trees that lined their properly. We would wake up early in the morning to help Pa Pa woke in the garden. Being from the city, we that this was the coolest thing ever. As a reward for our hard work, Na Na would treat us to a snack of fresh cherry tomatoes from the garden. Although, she would always call them little boy and little girl tomatoes. Night time was my favorite out at the lake because that’s when the fire flies would come out. Every evening around dusk we would get our mason jars, poke holes in the lids, and wait to spot the first lightning bug. We didn’t have to wait long until the whole night sky
Some people, some great people deserve to live forever, or at least die in a worthy or in a fulfilling way. I just got the short end of the bargain, I just got one of the worst things on this earth, cancer. Anyone can get the disease, but the way I see it, it seems unfair and unruly that pure souls could end up with a painful and undeserving demise. Unfortunately, I was one of those pure souls.
Jean sat with Armin on the bus ride home. Each of them stealing a glance from each other every now and then. Jean watched Armin out of the corner of his eye pull out an old flip phone to text someone under a contact named: Grandpa.
For Christmas we put up a tree. We open some presents on Christmas Eve. We open our stockings and more presents. We have a Christmas lunch, we have my grandma’s cheesy potatoes, and my aunt Trisha brings honey ham. Genealogy means to me a life full of knowing who you are. Our heritage is important because, we have a way of living developed by a family and passed on from generation to generation. This paper is going to be my journey of being a genealogist.
For this paper, I have chosen to interview my dad, Lester Everitt, because we have several statuses, both ascribed and achieved, that vary. His ascribed statuses include that fact that he is a 66 year old, white male; these have contributed to his achieved status of completing some college, being married, and being currently retired. Although he is now retired, Lester served 20 years with the United States Air Force, which included several deployments during the Vietnam Conflict, and then worked for 25 years at the North Dakota State Penitentiary until various health issues forced him to retire. When Lester was asked about his “master status” or the one status he feels he is most often regarded as, he struggled to provide an answer. Upon further
“Wow, so your dad is like, a hero isn’t he? That’s so cool!” I paused for a moment. My dad was a hero? “Yeah, I guess so”, I responded. In those few phrases, my perception of my father was completely changed forever. He didn’t stop being my dad at that point, he never will. But in that moment, he suddenly became almost larger than life.
The air is really fresh, and the wind is comfortable. Grandma usually opened the window during the daytime; I still remembered that feeling when the sunshine came in house and scatter. I walking among those numerous grand trees and admire colored leaves on the trees and on the ground. I miss that feeling of calmness and stability of the world around. I wish I could return the reality of those feelings once more. Memories in mind and never forget about happiness of staying in my grandmother’s house. Grandparent’s time-honored gift to their grandchildren is their unconditional love, unfettered by schedules, routines or commitments. They reinforced their grandchildren’s sense of security and self-value.
Throughout my childhood, I was under the assumption that my paternal grandfather would live forever. He never seemed to grow older; each passing year would deepen his smile lines, but I never saw these wrinkles as a sign of age. My grandfather was one of the happiest individuals I have ever known. He knew how to make everyone laugh and always provided a helping hand to those in need. My grandfather was a family man and made sure to put the needs of his loved ones before his own every day of his life.
I did my biography on my grandfather. He was a very successful man who was in the air force.
My grandfather and my grandmother are peasants who have grown up in rural areas with a low level of education.