Women in the 1920’s Before the war‚ women in society were quiet‚ polite and modest. In the 1920’s women changed dramatically‚ they appeared wearing short sporting skirts‚ short haircuts‚ smoking frequently swearing and also riding motorcycles. Once the soldiers had left for war‚ the women left behind emerged from their houses to fill the jobs of the men to support the armed forces. The movement from home to work force led to the creation of the new 1920’s woman. Although the women had started
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My soccer career started as soon as I could walk‚ but somehow I still wasn’t very good at it at the age of 13. You’d assume ten years of practice and a sister who’d been the mvp of her high school team would have rubbed off on me‚ but that wasn’t the case. That is to say‚ I wasn’t absolutely pitiful. I was pretty quick‚ and I could get a good foot on the ball about four times out of ten. My team that year‚ the Tornados‚ weren’t anything amazing‚ either. We had possibly a couple skilled people‚
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That summer‚ my older brother had decided to drag me‚ a scrawny incoming freshman with no wrestling experience‚ to an intensive weeklong‚ two-a-day wrestling camp. There I was‚ thrown into the deep-end‚ without a clue of how to wrestle. The other wrestlers constantly tossed me‚ took me down‚ and turned me on my back. The bruises and mat burns started appearing as I was beaten over and over again. This was not a fun experience. Battered and bruised‚ on the verge of tears‚ I told my brother that
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My identity is in a jar in the can house. It’s the white breath exhausted over greasy tools in rusty‚ silt-filled drawers. The mountain sounds‚ the back-up sirens‚ and steam whistles are my sounds. Spring is cold in the high country. Where hills imitate islands. Frayed cables will slice hands and give horrifying slivers. Let them rest‚ embedded in the mud. I’m flood waters rising in the night‚ and rafts of firewood and old doors. These chains are too big to reach my hands around but their rust remains
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My Hockey Adventures As winter approached‚ my parents constantly bothered me about choosing a winter sport. Because I was only in the sixth grade‚ my options for sports within the middle school were basketball‚ dance‚ or cheerleading. Luckily‚ I thought outside of the box and suggested hockey to my parents‚ even though my school did not have a team. A couple of my friends who played for the Mandan Hockey Club had helped me convince my parents to let me give it a try. The next week I was already
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always comment about the heat and now that it is cold‚ I am still complaining. When moving from a colder climate to a warmer climate it takes a little time‚ clearly‚ for your blood to thin. 2012 brought on the move from mostly cold and humid Pennsylvania to the dry inferno that is Arizona. I had not an inkling that I would ever think the sixties were cold. Here are my six realizations since I have acclimatized: 1. I am suddenly at a loss for warm clothes. The first year of living in AZ my closet was
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what will hopefully get me an A on this assignment (Mr. Maples‚ please have mercy on my C+). I remember how at that time the mountain’s raw and terrifying glare already frightened me enough to reconsider my actions and choose to give away to fear. What did I‚ a small‚ scrawny 9 year old boy‚ do in the face of these giants? Believe it or not I have already begun to set my preparations to descend from one of them. My parents planned a trip to Lake Tahoe to go to this place with the name of Boreal. This
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The Decision The thrill of the ball rolling off my fingers‚ my cleats digging in the ground‚ and the next sound I heard was‚ “Strike 3‚ you’re out!” As I walked back to the dugout‚ and my teammates high-fiving each other‚ our coach‚ said we needed to score 2 more runs to win the game‚ 10 minutes later‚ we were celebrating‚ that we won the last game of the season. All the coaches‚ lecturing us on our season‚ about our ‘ups and downs’ all had a happy expression. At the end of the huddle‚ we all
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quote that no sports editorial can disagree with. I survive by this quote every single day of my life. The quote says “Football is a great deal like life in that it teaches that work‚ sacrifice‚ perseverance‚ competitive drive‚ selflessness and respect for authority is the price that each and every one of us must pay to achieve any goal that is worthwhile.” - Vince Lombardi When I was nine years old‚ my dad and always tossed the football around. We were always practicing since the season was only
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My memory of my how I became literate is and always will be a part of me that I will never forget. I suppose I heard the sounds around me and connected them with emotions. Crying‚ I noticed‚ got a quick response from my parents‚ and usually some food. My communication development was identical to every other child learning to talk. Listening. But everyone has a story behind their literacy. Mine was one day‚ when we were driving to the grocery store‚ with the radio turned on‚ my jam turned on. It
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