humanity
Humanity begins at home.
Josephine
What was my favorite Christmas tradition? Well, I don’t have one in particular. I used to love everything when I was little: caroling throughout the neighborhood, making Christmas cards out of construction paper, writing letters to Santa Claus… I loved it all. That was because most of my memories come from my father, David. Nobody loved Christmas like he did. He would pile up the mountain of presents all around the tree. It was so big that it could have been Mount Everest… at least to a my four-year-old self. My father was amazing at Christmas.
By Corinne Renee Fowler6 years ago in Families
Bonnie
Bonnie By: Corinne Renee Fowler High school is tough. Actually, high school flat-out sucks. Here I was, in English class, trying to read Beowulf for about the twentieth time. I liked my English teacher, Mr. Hawkins, because A, because he was a babe, and B, he was a writer, and a damn good one. Last year, before I took his class, I read a short story he wrote in the newspaper, and I thought, “Wow, this guy is an amazing writer!” But here I was, reading another version of Beowulf. We had already read the original epic poem. Then, we read a play aloud. Now, we were reading a short story on Beowulf, and I still didn’t understand what the hell was going on. I heard there was a movie that just came out, like, ten years ago, but I had no intention of watching it, because, more than likely, it was going to be just as tedious and boring as reading three different versions of it was. Why did we have to read three different versions of the same story anyway? What was the point of that? Did that make any sense? Nope, not to me, anyway.
By Corinne Renee Fowler6 years ago in Families
American life
THE AMERICAN LIFE INTRO A 20 YEAR OLD GIRL BORN IN THE CITY OF MEXICO BUT RAISED IN THE UNITED STATES. WONDERING WHAT THAT IS LIKE? MY FAMILY FROM MEXICO THINKS I HAVE IT EASY BECAUSE IM ON THE OTHER SIDE.THAT MY PARENTS OR MYSELF HAVE PLENTY OF MONEY BECAUSE WE WORK IN AMERICA. THEY THINK WE HAVE THE BEST CARS OR THE BEST HOUSES,THAT WE DRESS NICE AND HAVE A NICE LIFE STYLE BUT TO THOSE WHO DO HAVE A NICE LIFE STYLE OR ANY OF THE ABOVE THEY SACRIFICED A-LOT TO GET EVERYTHING. A LOT OF PEOPLE MAY THINK I HATE BEING MEXICAN OR EVEN HATE SPEAKING ABOUT THE CULTURE BUT THATS NOT THE CASE SO LET ME TELL YOU MY STORY.
By Stephanie Garcia6 years ago in Families
14 days
Just woke up. Today is the day that I will see my wife. Today is the day. Six months, 10 days and 20 hours have passed. Working outside of my country roaming around South East Asia because of work, I would not have imagined that I would be home so soon. I didn’t expect work to be hindered by a sudden pandemic, let alone my family life disrupted by this invisible force. This virus has held the world to its knees that no family had been spared from its global effect. You may not be sick, but you lost your work, or your country suddenly became poor, or your neighborhood locked down and you are left with the alms and relief that comes to your home.
By Cesar Marquez6 years ago in Families
My life
Where do I start? Well I guess I have to say as far as I can remember. The barge is where I lived with my parent and my sister at that time. I was born in Manila Philippines. My father was a sea man. My mother , she was a graduate of the University of the Philippines. An A’s student.. We moved out off there when my brother was born. I remember we own a big store. We had a maid and a nanny. In a way I was a bit spoiled. After having five children we moved again. Father rarely come home so my mother was the one that stand as mom and dad. We were doing fine. Me and my sister was enrolled in a Catholic school. St. Catherine in Tay tay Rizal Philippines. But things change. My father was caught having an affair. Mother was getting only 35.00 pesos a month. The other women was beating her on picking up my dad’s pay. To make the story short , we have to move again . This time in an alley in a dark house no windows. But it was cheap. Mother struggled. Being the oldest, I felt that I had a responsibility to help mother. I found a butcher house nearby. Here they butchered, pigs, cows and horses. No girls allowed. Therefore I had to do something to get in. I wore a khaki shorts, a white T-shirt and a hat. Got in and no one suspected nothing. I was getting in brain, blood, lungs. Until one day. A cow was being butchered and it happened to swing his horn’s towards me. I let out a scream so loud and the man that was helping me for a week already said, your a girl! Needless to say that was my last day. I also learn to go with he street kids that hit the open store at night. When the market was closed. Mind you I was only seven going eighth. Learned how to find ways to bring food for my siblings. Like taking the good boxes to tread for rice cake from the Chinese rice cake place. My whole world changed. We became poor. And I became a street kid. Mother tried so hard . One day I stopped by a neighbor who had a television . It was showing Indians and cowboys. Well , as a kid I couldn’t help but to watched. Then a man inside the Baracade reach out and full my underwear down and stick his tongue on my private. I was so scared I couldn’t move at first. I managed to beak free from my shock. And went home. I never told anyone. Shortly we moved again. This time my mother was able to buy a house, enrolled me and my sister to a private school again. It was run by the Franciscan nuns. The school was just down the street from the Manila Chatedrial. Mother got a job at NASIDA. Until that day l, the nuns told us to go home. The houses was on fire. Me and my sister went home got my brothers and sisters out waited at the street clear of fire. Mother came home and we were transferred to a place called sapang palay. That afternoo, I lined up to get the our supply of food likerice corn meal and dry milk. After like a minute in the line I felt a pain stubbing me on my back. When I look back I saw a man with his private exposed and was masturbating on my back. I run out to where my family was and told my mother and right there she packed our stuff and we left. We stayed with relatives. She leaves in an alley again so we have to use the walkway that goes through this one neighbor. Well it happened that there is this guy that likes to bully us kids. One day he told me that we can go though. So being me i said to him, you don’t own the land. He just stood there and won’t let any of us go through. I went back to the house and Itook the manta rays tail and I weeped him. He took my mom to court. The judge asked how old he was and answered 21 years old . And asked me how old ai was and I said almost Eighth Sir. So the judge said are you doing bullying a kids go home and stop bothering them or you will go to jail. Father came back to our life and this time we move to a province. In Bicol. I did my 6th grade there and even went to high school there. Life was good again. At 14 years of age right after my first year, the year end, I was told that I was going on a vacation to my sister’s house. So I did. A month went by and aI was told that later I’ll go home.. well I end up staying with my sister. She move inside the base due to her husband is a civilian who worked for the lab inside the base. I was 17 going on eighteen then. They went to the U. S. For a vacation. One day a friend of mine that lived around the bend asked me to come meet her fiancée. So me and my cousin went. As I turned around the bend , this two men whistlers. Ignored then, went my friend house and did our visit. That night as I was laying on my bed I heard a knock on the door. My cousin and my sister’s friend opened the door. They wouldn’t leave until they meet me. My cousin called me down. Finally I gave in. We meet . Went back to my bed. Three days later there was a call. The American marine that came to the house who wants to meet me. Invited us to go to the beach. Again to make the story short we end up on the beach. Then another invite. This time to go to the club inside the base. Since my family know the manager, we were able to go in. I got drunk. We went home and everything was spinning. I know I asked for coffee but I was lef with him downs stairs. As he guided me down the floor, I tried fighting but he punched me on my right thigh. My leg drop. He went to try to penetrate me but couldn’t. I still bleed. We were told by my sister to never cause any trouble due in o the captain byhat lives next door reports and my sister being in the U.S., every time he knocked he was let in. And my people that is supposed to be with me, well. He repeatedly rape me. And told me that he will kill me if I told anyone. My sister came bake and noticed the change in me and I finally talked. That night I tried to end my life. But my brother in law caught me. The admiral was called he was reported. We were going to court. He said to me that if I send him to the Philippine prison, I might as well kill him. A week before the actual court, my layer talked to me and asked me if Im ready. He told me that because I lived in a town where there are lots of working girls that the court will make it sound like I asked for it, that I enjoyed it, that I initiated it. I got scared. I told him I don’t want to go through it all. In 1976 I came to the U.S. In two years I meet my first husband so I thought. To make it short, we got married in The States of a Nevada. Had kids with him and all those time I was again abused. You name it I was raped, photographed, emotionally, physically,verbally,mentally and had guns place between my eyes. I was belittled, called names I didn’t even know. After 21 years I got out and had an annulment. He was still married to his first wife.......
By Fernanda Satumbaga Balan6 years ago in Families
Oh, Captain, My Captain
When I was a kid, I didn’t think much about the kind of dad I would someday become. I was too busy daydreaming and doing the stuff that young boys do in their prepubescent years to think about such distant things. My own father was an unknown, faceless stranger whom I had met only one afternoon when I was sixteen, but never really got to know until I turned thirty and was about to be a father for the first time, myself.
By Scotty Roberts6 years ago in Families
After 25 Years, Father John Kauta Bids Farewell to His Parishioners at St. Patrick's Church
For 25 years, the parishioners at St. Patrick's in Bedford have been warmed by Father John Kauta's greeting. "You pray for me and I'll pray for you," he'd open the dialogue. With his time now coming to an end at St. Patrick's, his flock easily recognizes that he cannot be summed up in a catchy logline.
By Rich Monetti6 years ago in Families
Sun, Surf & Sand
It’s not so far away now, an end is in sight; a plan is in place. When our doors reopen and we can venture outside, I’ll be grabbing my board, my BBQ, and my family and friends. We’ll head to my favourite beach, to the tang of salt air and the feel of warm sand between our toes. We’ll spread our towels on the shore, unpack our picnic baskets and prepare the fire-wok for an evening BBQ.
By Vic Womersley6 years ago in Families
Second Chances In Life Shouldn’t Be Taken Lightly
Kristyn Meyer is on a journey to make herself the best human that she can be. These posts are a reflection of that. She welcomes your support via reading and through commissioned affiliate links within her posts! To stay up to date on all of her shenanigans, please subscribe to her email list! (psst…there’s a free gift involved)
By Kristyn Meyer6 years ago in Families
