My Favorite Person

Sarah Davis is fourteen years old and she is in the 9th grade. She live with her mom Karen and two little sisters Alexis and Taylor in Montgomery, Alabama. Her father died when she was 8 years old so it was just her, her mom, and her sisters. One of her favorite thing to do with her family was bake. It was their family traditions to bake different sweets and watch movies on Friday nights. Sarah started to realize that her mother wasn’t around for their family tradition and she wanted to know what was going on.

Laney was born on August 11, 1994. She was the second born, and has a sister who is four years older than her. When her parents got pregnant with her, she was planned but her parents were trying for a boy. Her parents have been together since they were in high school and got married at the age of 20. Six years into their marriage they finally decided to have kids and planned for it. Laney’s mom went to beauty school and her dad went to carpentry school. Since neither of her parents went to a University, money was sparse. Both of Laney’s parents worked very hard in the beginning of their careers. Her dad started his own carpentry business in 1989 and her mom worked at a salon. Both of Laney’s parents are from Devils Lake, North Dakota but moved to Fargo in 1987 to raise a family. Her parents socioeconomic status was low when she born and had no access to medical care. Laney’s first home was a house in North Fargo.

She and I had an especially close bond. Shortly before my dad’s accident, both her parents had died. I was the one who supported her through a very difficult year. As a result, she always treated me differently from the other kids—almost like an adult.

She begins by saying how she never had one traumatic event that made her like this. However, her father was a violent man and her mother was usually in hysterics. Her father caused her to never learn trust. She saw other kids as walking robots until she interacted with them. She associated with kids her age without actually forming any connections.

It’s been six months since her husband Samuel died. It’s been hell since the day she found out. Like being pulled into a black hole. The moment those words left the man’s lips, she started falling into a black hole. When she made the funeral plans. When she packed all her belongings and all her son’s belongings into boxes and moved from California to a small town called Collinston. She just fell deeper and deeper. She isn’t the only one who has suffered from this loss. Her son William is 7 years old and will not talk to anyone other than his mother ever since the event of his father’s death.

Before Ms. Taylor died, she was battling cancer, high blood pressure, and a diabetes which caused her husband’s life to be taken by stress. When I was taking care of her, she had only two children, both girls, and one grandson. I did not get the pleasure to meet her husband because he passed 10 years before had gotten sick. I knew she was depressed about her husband’s death, in which she almost gave up on living, but once I came along, I was able to give her that spark that she needed so desperately to keep living. Her daughters had lives of their own. One was a successful teacher, and the other was an executive manager of a company in North Dakota. The only grandson, who she felt had so many options in life, did not know which academic career path to follow

Pat was isolated during her developmental years. Her social thinking and social influences drove her to adapt to her surroundings and adjust to them. Since, she struggled to walk and she spent most of her time in her crib, and wasn’t able to explore her surroundings at an early age. As she reflected on her developmental history, she realized she was never close to anyone in her family. After, her dad left home, at the age of seven, her siblings also left at the age of sixteen. Her mom worked all the time and was often tired and/or sick. Her social influences were few and the ones she did have were negative. Pat also mentioned how her parents were always fighting, and how her siblings and herself we afraid of them. Throughout her developmental

Amy Lyles Wilson father’s passed away and left her mom widowed. Her mom now had to deal with not only grief but learning to do many things that she had never done before. She was a fast learner so learning how to do things she’s never done before wasn’t hard, it just took courage. For example, pump her own gas or any car mechanics but even throughout the obstacles that her mom had been challenged with after her dad passed away she learned that always, and she means always, you keep going.

Jane and I grew up in grade school together. She was in the class ahead of me, but her and I were still friends. My father was into politics and involved himself in whatever he could with Jane's dad. Since our fathers were away quite often, we would spend a lot of time together. Since Jane didn't have a mother, my mother would often include Jane in whatever my sisters and I were doing. We would have great talks together talking about what we wanted to do when we grew up. Even though neither one of us knew what we wanted to do, Jane was someone that always had the biggest heart for helping people. She was always talking about the stories her father told her about President Lincoln, and even though she didn't know how, she knew she wanted to be someone to make change like he did.

When she was around 5 years old her dad left them.threw the rest of her life she was raised by her single mom and her 2 older sisters. Then her family was everything to her and her family is everything to her now.Growing up she didn't have very much and she didn't want me and my sister to grow up like that. She has taught us that we can wish for a lot of things but we only need what we really need. Her family was everything then and is everything now.

At some point along the way, she inspired me to begin journaling my thought and feelings. The journaling continued through high school and the once angry, sad and isolated adolescent became a happy, personable, social teenager. In my thirties I became the person that everyone came to for advice and for a sympathetic voice. I am still to this day the go to person to help people sort through their feelings and frustrations for friend and co-workers. So many people have said “You should write a book.” During a difficult time in my life, I did just that. This book was not for anyone to ever see or publish, but was a collection of writings and stories of how I became who I am today. Maybe someday someone will find it and believe it is interesting enough to publish. Once again, there goes my

Every family has their own unique way of spending time together with loved ones only seen during the holidays. In the Stock home, there is only one thing we enjoy doing. Sure, like every other family we have our grand and elaborate dinner, which is composed of all the greatest delicacies my mother and grandmother can whip up. Of course, as is expected,

One such tradition is not socializing with neighbors but only talking to her sisters or other family members. Both of my great-grandparents came from a large family and so the Sunday was always considered family day. It was nothing to see a yard off of kids playing or see the men playing a game of horseshoes as the women would set out the dinner. However, it was the winter time that holds the most memories for my mother. It was then that the families would all gather at the family pond and go ice skating and the men would build a big fire and everyone would stand around and drink hot chocolate. One such tradition in the winter time was right after the first snow fall of the season. We would take a big mixing bowl and go out and fill that bowl as full as we could. Then she would go in and make a big bowl of snow ice cream (Food in Every County). One bright sunny day, our family was going to Lake Pomme De Terre for a family picnic. Like Shteyngart, I was all set for some grilled hamburgers or hot dogs or even some fried chicken. However, that was not meant to be. Like Shteyngart, is aw food being set out that was I saw food that was familiar to my great-grandmother’s culture. Instead of grilling hamburgers, she set out chicken and noodles, mashed potatoes, green beans and for dessert a shoofly pie, sugar cookies, and schnitz pie, which is made with dried apples (Food in Every County). My mother laughed when she saw my face because later my

Last Christmas, my family was getting ready to go to a Christmas party. I could smell the sweet aroma of cookies being baked and hear All I Want for Christmas is You being played, putting everyone in a happy

Holidays in my family are celebrated in a very unique way. My grandmother always manages the holidays we celebrate, from Christmas, to Easter. For Christmas, we actually celebrate on Christmas Eve. My mother, father, and I go to my grandparents house on Christmas Eve to eat a big Christmas dinner, open each other's presents, and celebrate together. Christmas Eve is really fun and memorable every time, we all enjoy it a lot more than actual Christmas day. When Christmas day arrives the next day, it is me, my mother, and my father. We all wake up fairly early, usually out of excitement but sometimes some of us need to be manually woken up,