I am from rolling green hills, always flowing free with buck and doe, From the wooden floors and carpets laced with dog hair To the echo of roaring bush hogs and tractors throughout the air I am from the black mud courtesy of passing ducks I am from the little black dog who chased a more youthful self Across the kitchen, around the island, trip, fall I’m from artistry and creative souls, aged finer than wine I’m from paint, clay, and most of all, color, that has skipped me entirely From the countless books read, to the times in Youngstown I’m from warm heads in warmer laps Baked goods, Rhode Island Red hens The land of homemade everything I’m from the white oaks in the park All the way up my scars Each a distant memory I’m from collapsed
On 06-05-2016 at 1143 hours I was dispatched to 2525 Barron Road in reference to a subject in the road yelling. Upon my arrival in the area I located Danny Wilson in the back yard of 2525 Barron Road spraying himself with a water hose. Wilson was acting irate and appeared to be under the influence of narcotics. Wilson was asked multiple times what kind of drugs he had used and he advised marijuana and methamphetamine. Wilson was complaining it was extremely hot and was spraying himself with water and was advising people where chading him.
In summary, on 09/21/15 at 0418 hours I was patrolling the area of 1600 S. Laramie Ave., at which time I observed a male subject with a youthful appearance walking northbound 16th Street. I made contact with the subject, at which time he identified himself as (Rosas, Alexis DOB 04/21/97). While speaking with Rosas, I detected a strong odor of fresh cannabis emanating from his person. Rosas related he had some cannabis in his sweater pocket. I recovered a silver box containing a green leafy substance from Rosas ' right sweater pocket.
My Michigan Hero I want you to think of someone special, to think of a hero. When I think of a hero I think of my dad. I remember when I was younger, and I didn’t like to read. My dad taught me just how amazing reading is.
This place was new, wild, ready to be explored. We turned onto a gravel road that was narrow, yet opened, and to the left, I saw an expanse of green fields and fruit trees. This was our farm. Over the next few years of my life, I explored every inch of the surrounding land. My parents tried out farming, my mom is the forever young hippy at heart, growing corn, zucchini, and anything else she could plant, all the while pursuing a degree at Humboldt State.
I worked for goodwill. They contract out to other businesses to help disabled, special needs an felons. Sometimes it is hard for certain people in life to get jobs. It is called Rock-Tenn, they recycle trash. They ran the trash down a conveyor belt.
My Personal Michigan Hero I can feel my brain being over run by lesions. This is one of the ways my dad, Tim Huyge, jokes about his dieses M.S. He was born in the 1970’s in a hard-working middle class family. After high school, he went to Grand Valley University, and worked as the manager of T.J.Max. Until he had to retire because of his M.S.
I had no idea about what I was going to find in Little Rock. First of all, I have been enjoying my groups company, I feel that we’re more close and united after that trip. Therefore, I liked a lot traveling there with them and I also adored the highway. It’s wonderful to admire nature while you are on the road, it reminded me some speedways in Mexico. For me, one of the most interesting places there was High Central.
My Michigan Hero Everyone likes superheroes, right? They all wear awesome costumes and have special powers, but not all superheroes are that obvious. David Newman is in eighth grade and is a living, real superhero. To people who don’t know his story, they see him as a normal boy.
I have lived in East Oakland my whole life. To the majority of people, the mention of East Oakland evokes thoughts of violence, shootings, and gangs. I was one of the people who believed in these stereotypes, and for a particularly long time. I was one of the people who saw Oakland as a wasteland, a place with nothing to offer me, and a place I had nothing to offer to.
Since birth through the age of 15, my life has taken place in Jersey City, New Jersey. Born and raised only 9 blocks away from the hospital I was born in. My family moved to Georgia only 2 years ago, since then many things have changed in our lives. Most of my family still lives in New Jersey and New York so I often go back to visit them.
“The back yard ran off into weeds and a fence-like line of trees and behind it the sky was perfectly blue and still. The asbestos ranch house that was now three years old startled her—it looked small. She shook her head as if to get awake. ”(941 Oates) “"My sweet little blue-eyed girl," he said in a half-sung sigh that had nothing to do with her brown eyes but was taken up just the same by the vast sunlit reaches of the land behind him and on all sides of him—so much land that Connie had never seen before and did not recognize except to know that she was going to it.” (949 Oates)
A little town in the middle of nowhere is often seen as just a small backward little place. It does depend, however, on what such a place offers to those living there. For those who grow up in such a small place the treasures are endless. This is the place where you learn most of life’s lessons, if not all of them. Having grown up in a town that was really a compact city, made the greatest impression on my life.
As a young girl, around the age of 10 I lived in the Perry projects with my mother. Previously to moving there I would visit often to see my great-grandmother. When I would visit my grandmother there were not many other people that were African-American. The Commodore Perry Projects had been actually made for white people.
There are some people that I can’t imagine living life without. I can’t live life without my friends from school, my blood family, or my dogs. Though I cannot live without any of the entities I just listed, there is someone that I know, this person is special. This person has left a big impact on my life, and his name is Jody. I remember when me, my mom, my sister, and Jody would go to Culvers every week that I was with my mom.
One night, during the cold winter, I walked along the side walk to reach the local store down the block. As I walked out, before I can realize it, I was dropping down onto the concrete while bullets swiftly passed me. I then began to run back home, but I wanted to keep running. Away from Chicago, away from the west side. Growing up in Chicago, it was easy to assume that there was nothing different beyond the blocks of my streets.