Oakland, California. 1909. A plane piloted by self-taught engineer Feng Ru crashes into his shack, his workspace hidden deep within the forest, setting it ablaze, not an uncommon occurrence. Brooklyn, 1947. Jackie Robinson, renegade trailblazer who had breached the Major Leagues’ color barrier for the first time in history steps up to home plate.
Jackie Robinson is known to be one of the most influential people in baseball and in society. He eternally changed the aspect of American history. It was unusual to have a colored person be treated equally as a white person during the time of the 1900s. He was born in Cairo, Georgia in 1919 and later moved to Pasadena, California to pursue a better life. He came from a poor family of sharecroppers in the South and was the youngest of five.
My Michigan Hero “The moments of happiness we enjoy take us by surprise. It’s not that we seize them, but that they seize us.” - Ashley Montagu. That quote is one of the best quotes that captures my hero. My hero, Dan McPartlin (my grandfather) has had it rough.
Unfortunately, as he got more sick and weak, he was unable to make the trip to the lake with us. All our hearts sank when we realized those were the last memories we would have together in Shawano. He loved it up there, and I can 't imagine exactly how he felt when he knew that was his last time. It has been different ever since then. There seemed to be something missing, Someone missing.
I’m able to resonate with a plethora of things, yet the thing I consider my identity is I’m an adopted, Haitian immigrant. I was born in Haiti in 1998, in a small village in Thomazeau, I moved to Croix-des- Bouquets right after my birth and I lived there until I was 9 years old. My family's financial situation was adequate. My mom was always able to find a way to make ends meet. This cause our neighbor to be envious of us.
Quickly I saw a big white blob flying at my face and fell right onto the nice, new, soft carpet floor. My sister ran away laughing so I couldn 't hit her back. My mom screamed down the stairs “NO PILLOW FIGHTS” but neither of us linsted for a word she said. I ran after my sister and swung my pillow at her only to miss and fall over. She was definitely winning what we called “pillow wars”.
My hands became clammy and my heart started racing. I did not want to believe the words coming out of my mother’s lips, “His kidney failed three weeks after the operation, he is dead”. I was just 5 years old and I felt like there was no purpose to live. My father was everything to me. I already missed his genuine kindness, the way his smile formed whenever he talked to me about life, and the times where we had father-son time at the airport, watching airplanes fly.
As a child I was very fortunate to have a family like my own; my parents were truly happy and wholly in love. I was incredibly close with my siblings and still am today despite our little fights. Along with being close to my siblings my father and I had a great relationship; most people who knew me would have considered me a “daddy’s girl”. Growing up my father was remarkably proud of my grades and who I was becoming as a person. Oftentimes he would brag about me to anyone who listened.
I have failed to meet the academic satisfactory in two of my online classes this past fall semester. Those two courses were Presentation Techniques and Diversity and Society. The reason for that is because early this semester I found out my grandfather who I have relied on my entire life is diagnosed with throat cancer. As I was beginning to think I was going to have a clear head to prove myself this fall semester, my families unfortunate circumstances had taken my position of my academic approach. I live under the roof of my grandparents home for the past twenty years of my life.
My topic of the solo performance is being forgotten, and my statement is that no one should be forgotten. My article is about that someone was found dead, and no one noticed about it. It took a few days, but he was found almost dead at his desk. Then he was taken to the hospital and died there. This links to my play, because it's about being forgotten.
The poem “Testing New Waters” relates to Jackie Robinson’s experiences during his life. The poem portrays what it is like for a person to embrace taking risks. Through Jackie Robinson’s professional and successful career he emulates Holbrook’s message. As does the founding of the Negro League. The journey which they embarked upon towards equality changed baseball for everyone forever.