Once Again At The Lake-Personal Narrative Analysis

Then we threw it back. We sent my mom a picture. Then we kept on fishing. When we were done fishing I drove back to the boat dock and my dad went and got the truck and I loaded the boat. We went to the fish cleaning station and started to clean the fish that we had caught.

Norton my dog jumped into the pool to try and save me but I slipped from his short white fur and I screamed for him some more and he heard me that time. He saw what I was doing and ran outside and darted for me. My dad came over to the pool and took everything out of his shirt pocket and pants then jumped into the pool. My dad is a very good swimmer so he jumped in and got me out right away.

" That was the longest long ride for my parents, brother, and my brother's friend. We arrived and the first thing I remember doing was getting a rock and throwing it in the river. My brother and his friend

As he goes down this road we are bumping up and down constantly, especially when he hits a small ditch. That road ends right at our favorite fishing spot. It is called “The Backwaters of Crooked Creek” or at least that is all I know it as. When we get off that road my dad parks his car next to the woods and we both get out. I walked to our trunk, open it up, and release that we didn’t buy any chicken liver.

One day I was at my lake house taking a walk after a long day of skiing and swimming with my dad my sister and my mom. I had just left the railroad track about a mile or two from my house; I usually go to the trestle and look for bones on the track. As I was walking up the last or second of last hill I saw a turtle almost invisible amongst the dark brown leaves I trudged through the river of leaves and picked it up, and to my surprise there was a huge gash, cut sharply into the shape of a lighting bolt in the top of the shell. I took it back on the road and I felt it move one of its legs.

I spent all of my childhood summers splashing in the river, painting several pictures of trees, and being eaten by mosquitos at that camp. Aside from my wedding, I hold those memories most dear to me. Although the camp had given me feelings of nostalgia, I was on that hike to say goodbye. With my uncle’s passing, he left me the keys and the ownership of the cabin.

Victor has come home because of the death of little William and has found himself alone again in nature during a thunderstorm, grieving. “ No one can conceive the anguish I suffered during the remainder of the night, which I spent, cold and wet, in the open air.” (Shelley, 50-51) Again the characters go to NATURE to weep. Later in Frankenstein, Victor borrows a boat to be by himself and calm his sad soul, he had just destroyed the she monster and while he was out on the waters he dumped the remains into it.

When Charlie makes his next monthly rounds for mail, he finds her alone at the devastated village. He helps her bury her brother and invites her to aboard his steamboat. The relationship turns from hesitation, to irritable, and finally a friendship. They decide to turn the boat into a torpedo to take down a German gunboat. The couple faces turmoil down the river multiple times, including more German attacks, rapids, and bug infestations.

I kept the fish and had it for dinner the following

A man greeted us with three missing fingers and hands stained lead grey. He instructed our group in the lesson. I was too young to take part in the experience, so I just watched the “older” people in my family attempt to make glass that would e nothing compared to the amazing artists whom we saw before. By the time we had finished and taken a water taxi home, it was night time. From our long walking day and glass experience, we were all starving.

I was pushed down, wrestled with, and experienced cuts, bumps, and bruises just like one of the boys. We would have cookouts and bonfires with corn-on-the-cob and the best hamburgers and hot dogs. We would have birthday parties that were the best I can remember. And on hot summer days we would go down to the pool to swim and play on the playground. Our nights were full of little league baseball games under the bridge at Paul J. Sciullo Field watching the pony league games just waiting for one of the big kids to crack a ball so hard it would hit the bridge.

From the time I wake up until I am called in for dinner, I am here. Taking breaks only to use the bathroom, eat, or soak in the beauty that is the lake behind my home. Only here, can I forget the never-ending drama that surrounds my home and family, because while I am here I am consumed within in a book, within nature. While spending my summer days sitting on the dock lost within the new young adult novel, I was able to forget the past trauma, the present trauma, and fear of future trauma. No matter the book, I was able to be transported away from reality into an idealized world that would never be achievable for me.

I would work at Little Lake and on the weekends the students would sit outside relaxing and listening to music from Lisa Magee portable 8-track player. The generosity of the staff and how they loved us was a big deal to me. Uncle Paul (The cook) had so much trust in my

It was cold; the kind of cold that when you took a deep breath, it hurt your lungs, and the wind would come roaring off the lake like thunder, it always seemed as if summer was a thousand years away, and the sunshine that warmed us as we swam in the very same lake in July would have to be drilled open with an Auger, or a smartly placed shotgun gun blast through six or more inches of ice to even try to let the fish know you have a wonderful squishy worm and he should come get it, and you know this because the chickens have provided the best, stinky, warm, wet, and messy mud pile that even in winter never freezes or loses its ammonia like odor, Dad says it’s the best dirt, I say the worms are huge because that’s all I care about, a great big old jiggly wet sticky worm and time fishing with dad. I still fish as much as a responsible, employed, family man can. So I had waited a long time for the little ones to be of an age where seven hours on a plane and a few more hours of driving, would not cause a complete breakdown of family unity. besides sleeping on the couch is never fun except when you go to the

My family and I were on our way to Mille Lacs Lake, a very great walleye fishery. It was going to be perfect, a small breeze 70 and sunny a perfect day for fishing. Little did we know it was going to be rough. Beep, Beep, Beep, it was seven o'clock AM it was time to get up for fishing.