pull hard at each other‚ battling one another for the complete claim of me. However‚ I remain stuck in between the two‚ not knowing which culture has conquered me. September 6th‚ 2006 was the day my brother‚ and I left our mother and home in Ghana to come to America. After a long 12 hour flight‚ I met my father for the first time. It was an unforgettable moment. He was taller than I imagined and had a brilliant smile. His eyes sparkled with delight as he helped us carry our bags. He asked us a plethora
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My father inspired me to step into a world outside of my comfort zone. During high school‚ I was known as an introverted person who did not get along with others as much. I was afraid of being a part of a large crowd simply because I knew that fitting in would be impossible. However‚ by the time I became a junior‚ the daily life that I had lived routinely suddenly began to change. With the recent news about racial violence‚ such as the deaths of Trayvon Martin and Michael Brown‚ I started to feel
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from my mother’s grasp‚ I charged. With arms flailing and chubby legs fluttering beneath me‚ I was the ferocious two year old rampaging through Costco on a Saturday morning. My mother’s eyes widened in horror as I jettisoned my churro; the cinnamonsugar rocket gracefully sliced its way through the air while I continued my spree. I sprinted through the aisles‚ looking up in awe at the massive bulk products that towered over me. Overcome with wonder‚ I wanted to touch and taste‚ to stick my head
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hard things have gotten I’ve found a way to find the good. My identity is a fighter. Divorce. Divorce has taken up a lot of my life‚ having it happening with almost everyone I care about. My mom went through it with my dad. My grandma went through it with my moms father. My grandpa went through it with his ex-wife. My grandma on my father’s sides parents
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he smile and said thank you for accepting my invitation. I brought you here to show you how much I appreciate you for working the extra hours and allow me to get paid for it. Few people would work another’s shifts and gave them the hours. That was the only way he could go through his training and still keep his pay. I had not minded doing that for him. While we sat in the restaurant he thanked me repeatedly for helping him. Then he told me about his life. He came to New York
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introduced me to new hobbies‚ activities and just how to appreciate life in general. Let’s start off in my early childhood. Growing up I had the biggest dreams like becoming an astronaut. As I kept older I looked into more realistic things like becoming a vet and or a nurse. I looked up to my parents and their jobs so I wanted to be just as accomplished as they are. They worked‚ and still do work‚ at Boeing. They work as a team; my mom buys the plane parts
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forever. I knew that my grandpa was about 84 years old‚ he was getting older. All he had was my Aunt Vickie to take care of him because he was all by himself before he moved into his nursing home. I didn’t know that in late June was the last time I would see him
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Born on September 13‚ 1947 in the little town of Jacona‚ Michoacan‚ Mexico‚ lived my aunt Josefa Ortegon. She is the oldest of her twelve brothers and sisters. She was very little when she saw the struggles that her family went through. Her mom couldn’t work due to taking care of her children. So the only one who worked was her father‚ an alcoholic who would use his money for his addictions and going out with his friends. She felt the urge to take action and help her family in any kind of way that
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I have never been the kind of person that knows what they are supposed to be. While that is certainly not a unique condition‚ I have felt at times that my uncertainty was to an almost comical degree. As a kid‚ I tried dozens of sports and was successful at approximately zero of them. In an effort to get me to do something‚ my parents put me in art classes‚ science camps‚ sports leagues‚ and other kinds of activities we could barely afford‚ but none of them stuck. With little exaggeration‚ I feel
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Tampa Bay Florida according to my Mom and my birth certificate. I guess you could say that’s how it all started. I also asked my mom “what time was I born”? She said that I was born on November 12‚ 1997‚ at 3:45 P.M. I then found out that I was supposed to be born on November 22nd‚ 1997 so I was born 10 days early. (Sternal‚ Anna.) After looking at my birth certificate I found out I was actually born at 1:48 P.M. (birth certificate no. 109-97-170907) I then asked my mom about the contradiction‚ hoping
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