Following the first part of my unbelievable story of failure and persistence, this last portion shows you how I turned obstacles and tenacity into boldness and audacity. You have to realize that when back up into a corner, you only have two choices: either fight or give up. What would you do?
Following the first part of my unbelievable story of failure and persistence, this last portion shows you how I turned obstacles and tenacity into boldness and audacity. You have to realize that when back up into a corner, you only have two choices: either fight or give up. What would you do?
Bears, Foster Homes, Resourcefulness, Love, and Endless Opportunity Employment Crossing
You need to cherish your loved ones and do everything in your power to be connected to them.The truth is that there is an abundance of opportunities around you.
Where Dads Go: A story for my unborn child (fiction)Jenn Baker-Henry
My submission "Where Dads Go: A story for my unborn child" is up for the Goodreads Book Club Slideshow Story Contest! Here's my story of a mom telling/showing her unborn child about being abandoned by fathers in her family line and also how relationships have played out in her family over generations.
Through this unbelievable story of failure and persistence, you realize that behind every success is an uneasy path. There are fiasco, embarrassing efforts, barriers, setbacks and even, drastic changes of direction. It always is the first awkward steps on the road to be successful in anything you undertake.
Bears, Foster Homes, Resourcefulness, Love, and Endless Opportunity Employment Crossing
You need to cherish your loved ones and do everything in your power to be connected to them.The truth is that there is an abundance of opportunities around you.
Where Dads Go: A story for my unborn child (fiction)Jenn Baker-Henry
My submission "Where Dads Go: A story for my unborn child" is up for the Goodreads Book Club Slideshow Story Contest! Here's my story of a mom telling/showing her unborn child about being abandoned by fathers in her family line and also how relationships have played out in her family over generations.
Through this unbelievable story of failure and persistence, you realize that behind every success is an uneasy path. There are fiasco, embarrassing efforts, barriers, setbacks and even, drastic changes of direction. It always is the first awkward steps on the road to be successful in anything you undertake.
ShameDick GregoryI never learned hate at home, or shame. I.docxklinda1
Shame
Dick Gregory
I never learned hate at home, or shame. I had to go to school for that. I was about seven years old when I got my first big lesson. I was in love with a little girl named Helene Tucker, a light-complexioned little girl with pigtails and nice manners. She was always clean and she was smart in school. I think I went to school then mostly to look at her. I brushed my hair and even got me a little old handkerchief. It was a lady's handkerchief, but I didn't want Helene to see me wipe my nose on my hand.
The pipes were frozen again, there was no water in the house, but I washed my socks and shirt every night. I'd get a pot, and go over to Mister Ben's grocery store, and stick my pot down into his soda machine and scoop out some chopped ice. By evening the ice melted to water for washing. I got sick a lot that winter because the fire would go out at night before the clothes were dry. In the morning I'd put them on, wet or dry, because they were the only clothes I had.
Everybody's got a Helene Tucker, a symbol of everything you want. I loved her for her goodness, her cleanness, her popularity. She'd walk down my street and my brothers and sisters would yell, "Here comes Helene," and I'd rub my tennis sneakers on the back of my pants and wish my hair wasn't so nappy and the white folks' shirt fit me better. I'd run out on the street. If I knew my place and didn't come too close, she'd wink at me and say hello. That was a good feeling. Sometimes I'd follow her all the way home, and shovel the snow off her walk and try to make friends with her momma and her aunts. I'd drop money on her stoop late at night on my way back from shining shoes in the taverns. And she had a daddy, and he had a good job. He was a paperhanger.
I guess I would have gotten over Helene by summertime, but something happened in that classroom that made her face hang in front of me for the next twenty-two years. When I played the drums in high school, it was for Helene, and when I broke track records in college, it was for Helene, and when I started standing behind microphones and heard applause, I wished Helene could hear it too. It wasn't until I was twenty-nine years old and married and making money that I finally got her out of my system. Helene was sitting in that classroom when I learned to be ashamed of myself.
It was on a Thursday. I was sitting in the back of the room, in a seat with a chalk circle drawn around it. The idiot's seat, the troublemaker's seat.
The teacher thought I was stupid. Couldn't spell, couldn't read, couldn't do arithmetic. Just stupid. Teachers were never interested in finding out that you couldn't concentrate because you were so hungry, because you hadn't had any breakfast. All you could think about was noontime; would it ever come? Maybe you could sneak into the cloakroom and steal a bite of some kid's lunch out of a coat pocket. A bite of something. Paste. You can't really make a meal of paste, or put it on bread for a .
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Attacked
1. Attacked By Hilary Rowe
I can still hear his screams. I can still feel ice-cold fear as the terror spread through my body. The
scared, knowing look that passes between siblings as they realize that something is dreadfully and
terribly wrong. I still feel the momentum as I round the banister at the bottom of the carpeted stairs,
and the sudden loss of movement with the buckling of my knees.
As only a sister can remember, I see my by six-year-old brother, Richard, covered in the blood
pouring from his face. Mysister, Hannah, at only ten, stops and tries to pick me up. I hear the cacophony
of my mother yelling at my father, my father yelling at David, David yelling at Terri, and Terri yelling at
the Golden retriever with the blood on his muzzle.
----My mother is one of the kindest people on this earth; she is a fiercely loyal friend and will do
anything she can to help someone in need. Generous and loving, the kind of woman who talks to
everyone around her, and finding that her new friend plans to simply watch Law and Order re-runs,
invites them to our small Thanksgiving celebration. However, as fiercely loyal as she is, once crossed you
find the coarse and terrifying woman who would make even the bravest of men quiver in his boots.
Terri and my mom became fast friends after meeting, and within weeks she became an
extension of the family, one of our many extra “aunts.” Living close to our school, we frequently stopped
by her small house for an afternoon snack so Mom could have some time to visit with her best friend.
Being alone in her home, Terri adopted Baxter from the shelter, rescuing him from a life of abuse and
neglect. It was with Terri that I first saw Dirty Dancing, and it was she who my mother asked to take care
of our family, Dad included, in the event that something happened to her. Terri saw me graduate from
middle school, and it was at her house that we spent the first Christmas eve away from my
grandmother’s. She and my mother were inseparable until she met her future husband, David.
-----
2. I still hear my father’s yelling as he grabs David and pushes him against the wall, “What the hell
happened?”
“Gardner, we need to go to the hospital. NOW.”
“What’s going on? What happened? We heard Richard..,” moving into the living room I see my
brother sitting on the sink, covered in his own blood while my mother desperately tries to hold his cheek
to his face. I watch the world moving in slow motion, as my sister rounds the stairs behind me, sees our
brother and quickly forgets how to speak. Richard’s cries of pain crash through the air, snapping me
from my paralysis.
“Hannah. Get your jacket and go outside,” finally able to function, I grab the small boy’s coat
from the table, and hand my dad the keys to our Armada as my mother barrels through the front yard.
“I told you this would happen. I told you, Terri.” My mother is an angry tornado, decimating
anything that dares to cross her path. She piles into the back seat, pressing the blood-soaked towel in an
effort to slow the bleeding from my brother’s torn face. I climb into the captain seat, and look at the
new shirt that I had been so proud to wear. I see the sparkling Crusader logo of my first high school
basketball shirt, and the only cool pair of jeans in my closet. I will never wear this outfit again. My coping
mechanism engages, allowing me to experience everything around me; protecting me from the crippling
fear, my mind forces me to think of anything but the cries of my brother.
----“So I met this guy, and I really like him. I think he might be the real thing,” the red-haired
woman gushed, as she opened her mascara-covered eyes wide.
“I hope so,” my mother’s intuition told her that the man walking through the door had cold,
snake-like eyes.
“Dora, I’ve heard so much about you. I’m David.” Taking her hand in a too-tight squeeze, my
mother could feel the challenge in his calculating view.
3. ----I can still hear the sound of the siren, and the not-so-silent cursing of my father as he pulls over
the speeding car. I see my father bathed in the bright white path of the squad car’s headlights, his hands
in the air, along with his face, and shirt front spattered in his son’s blood. Yelling in frustration, I beat on
the windows trying to get the man’s attention, “I know we were speeding. My brother’s hurt! Can’t you
see him? We need to go! Please just let us go to the hospital! Help him!” To my thirteen year old brain,
it seems as if the officer is taking his sweet time; the seconds turn to hours and all I see is Richard sitting
in my mother’s arms and Hannah’s terrified face.
“Hilary be quiet. Let us handle this.”
“But he isn’t helping! We need to go!”
“I know!,” I suddenly see the unrestrained fear in my mother’s eyes, and the trail of mascara left
by the tears that are streaming down her cheeks. Rolling down her window, Mom joins my father in the
wild explanation, ands seeing our desperate situation, gives us a police escort to the freeway.
----“So, I have something to tell you! I’m engaged!”
“What? Congratulations!”
Wrapped up in her happiness, Terri didn’t hear the disapproval in Mom’s voice.
“I know it’s only been six months, but I really love him. I just know we are going to be so happy
together!”
“Well, I’m glad that you’re happy. Just be careful please.”
“Oh! And the wedding is in six months!”
“Wow. That’s pretty fast isn’t it?”
“I know but I just can’t wait. I was wondering if you would be my matron of honor?”
“Oh. Wow, umm..,”
4. “Great! I’m so excited!”
----I can still see my mother, rushing to the ambulance entrance, clutching my brother as she runs. I
still feel my fists pounding against the glass window as we try to get the attention of anybody on the
other side of the steel. I hear the quick, terse, orders of the doctors and nurses as they quickly take us
through the winding hallways.
Then, just as suddenly as they appeared the orderlies disappear behind the exam room doors,
and my sister and I are whisked off to the purgatory of a waiting room full of broken arms and bleeding
noses. We are told we can’t be in the exam room, they need to work quickly to help our brother, and we
will only mess it up; our grandparents are on their way and they will be here soon. This is the scariest
moment of my life. All I can do is sit here, clutching my sister’s trembling hand as I try to calm her down
and tell her everything is ok. I want to hide the tears streaming down my face. I want to be strong, like
the so-clichéd rock; she needs to know that everything will be ok.
Finally, the longest fifteen minutes of my life end as I hear my grandmother’s voice and see the
familiar gray overalls of my grandfather’s work suit. We compare notes and I quickly realize they know
no more than I do. I excuse myself and find the solace of the bathroom stall, and as I hear the click and
the confused Hello? of my best friend the levees break.
“Baxter attacked Richard,” I clutch my Nokia phone like it is the life raft in a storming sea.
“Wait, what?”
“Baxter attacked Richard. His face is all torn up, and they won’t tell us anything. He was just
sitting there petting him and he attacked. We just got to the hospital and they took him in the back
room and I have no idea what’s going on.”
“Oh Hil, I’m so sorry. Do you have somebody there? My mom and I can come pick you up if you
need us to?”
5. “No, it’s ok. My grandparents are here, but I just don’t know what to do. I’m so scared. “