Personal Narrative: Home In Silver Creek, Nebraska

It was a small town in Cornersville, Ohio. Nothing much ever happened in this small town until one day. A new family moved in one afternoon. Everyone was surprised because no one even noticed the house being built. Everyone was still delighted that they moved in because the couple, Bob and Nancy, were very friendly. Bob and Nancy helped with all the activities in town and were very generous. A couple of weeks after they moved in, a lot of strange things began. Money started disappearing, the lights in the town went out every night except for Bob and Nancy's lights, even people's pets went missing. One night, everyone's lights went out at 11:30 as usual, except there was an extremely loud noise. The neighbors went outside to see where all the

One day in Nebraska, Bill was riding in his brand new 1970 chevelle. He was thinking if he could bring it to a drag strip and race that would be great. So he got online to check if there were any events and there happened to be one in one day. So he got his car all cleaned up and tooned out for the race. The next day he got up and got ready for a great day. He got into his car and head off to the drag race track. Once he got there he got his car all ready for the race just to make sure. His opponent was very experienced and you could tell he has been racing for a while. So Bill got nervous but he was ready. His opponent had a very fast car that might have had even more power than his chevelle.

Imagine your life being confined to eight and half square miles. This was a reality for me, up until age 14, when I first adventured out of my home state.

Looking back out of the small window, I catch a final glimpse of corn fields and lonely railroad crossings before they dip below the horizon. For my first time on a plane, the excitement of adventure meets me as I depart from the comfort of home and enter a world unknown outside of Nebraska. Seeing the world in God’s view as the landscape evolves below, I fall in love with flying. Looking down from 30,000 feet and seeing earth on such a vast scale, I realize how much there is to discover.

Sioux County Iowa isn’t so different from any other rural county in the Midwest. We have rich and poor towns, public and private schools, good and bad police officers, and plenty of rowdy teenagers. The Midwest however is a very unique place to live. I lived in the country, about ten minutes outside of Orange City, Iowa. One summer Wednesday night at about 9:00p.m., after I had just gotten back home from work, I received a text message from my friend Jon, “Get the truck ready. Be at your house in 10”. I sighed. I knew that meant we were up to no good. I’m not sure what really bothered me, the fact that Jon was expecting me to drop all of my plans to go on another escapade, or the fact that we both knew I didn’t have any plans.

A toast to a place above all the rest, this place though odd has captured my heart. I know this isn’t a conventional Burns supper toast, or even a real toast at all. But as I was thinking about which toast I wanted to give; I realized that there was only one place that I wanted to talk about. So firstly, I would like to ask you guys have you ever been to a place that makes you feel happy. A place that even at the mention of its name, you can’t help but think of happy memories you had there. The place that does that for me is the Black Hills of South Dakota. I spent my summer working at a campground in the heart of the Black Hills. So here’s a toast to the Black Hills and all of its natural beauty.

The town is small and the roads are worn, but Chancellor South Dakota is where my childhood happened. Chancellor is a town with 252 people and everyone knows just the right everyone. The town has everything a Midwest small town has: a local diner, gas station, casino, two churches, Veteran memorial, and a wonderful, little park. From when I lived here from when was born till middle school. The memories I made in this town where fun and childish, but each one left something in my mind.

Colorado, known for the Rocky Mountains, is a gorgeous place to be. The rectangular state rich with wildlife, covers 104,185 square miles. In the black timber, it is dark and silent, not a sound to be heard. The thick pine trees block out most of the sunlight, only to see about seventy-five yards. The terrain is brutal, almost straight up and down, but the elk love it because it is a challenge for hunters to see them. As I walk my favorite ridgeline in the black timber, I watch for the slightest movement and listen for the smallest crack. Watching thirteen-lined ground squirrels run around and chase each other can be humorous when they fall down from trees. My adrenaline pumps and heart races at a million miles per hour as I wait patiently

Growing up in rural North Carolina was both a blessing and a curse. My hometown, Fallston, North Carolina, is a tiny town way off the beaten path. Most people speak with a southern accent, are devout christians, vote Republican, think camouflage is a normal fashion pattern, and adore country music. But while I was a child, none of these things were a problem. I never realized how close-minded everyone was or how there were no opportunities for success; I was too concerned with the three most important events of the year: the Fallston FunFest, the Belwood Tractor Pull, and the Cleveland County Fair. However, as I grew older, zeal wore off and reality set in. I started to realize how conservative and restrictive it was. What little Fallston offered,

Michigan's capital and my current place of residence. DeWitt is wonderful place for children to spend their early years, and for many of my acquaintances, still a nice place to live. When I was young, Dewitt was a growing and friendly community. The atmosphere was brimming with positive attitudes and possibilities. It sounds corny, but honestly driving down the street, with every waving arm offering a warm welcome, you would think you entered a cheesy family sitcom neighborhood.

Kansas City born and raised in rural Indiana, I did not live and grow up in the same house as most kids around here do. I’ve moved twice in my lifetime and couldn’t be more grateful that we did. My family has made southern Indiana our home now for the last 15 years. I’ve played multiple sports here and with each sport I made more and more friends. When I go back to the city I was born in, I think about how different my life would’ve been if my parents hadn’t decided to move. I would have never gotten the chance to wake up and be surrounded by corn fields every day. I would never have been able to ride fourwheelers in my backyard, mow grass on a riding-mower, or even have a garden. There is privacy here, whereas neighbors in the city can see

One of the hardest things about moving to Little Rock for college is knowing that I will not get to enjoy southern home cooked meals everyday. My grandma’s crispy pork chops with fried potatoes, and creamy macaroni and cheese and freshly picked green beans, from the garden in the backyard, or her homemade vegetable soup and buttered cornbread really screams my name as I stand in line for a standard cafeteria meal. Not having her cooking available to me everyday is definitely a struggle. Food is the center of my whole family. Food is what brings us together. Not just ordinary food though, no. It is southern home cooked food.

During the summer I went to South Dakota for a national tumbling meet. In South Dakota I also went to Mt. Rushmore, a car museum/scavenger hunt, and the tumbling meet.

Growing up in Northern Michigan and having family members from all over the state meant that my family traveled around quite a bit to see all of the natural wonders that Michigan has to offer.  From the time I was born until now I have lived in the same neighborhood (Lake Arrowhead). When I was in fifth grade my parents divorced but because both of them loved the neighborhood so much my mom kept our house and my dad built a new home about three miles away but still in the same neighborhood. I use to think this was strange that my parents were divorced but still lived in the same subdivision, as I got older I realized it was because they both shared the same love for the Lake and wanted their children to be raised by the water. This neighborhood is special for many reasons, it is a private neighborhood, there is many miles of trails for ATVs, a private pool, and most importantly there is the actual lake arrowhead lake (Buhl Lake).

As I look at all the picture and videos on my phone, I came across a photo of James, my best friend, and I floating on air mattress on Christina Lake. Then it shot me, I remember what happened at the lake, as clear as day.