BA 11

What did I learn this semester?

I learned that after ten years of not being in school, there is a lot that I don’t remember about it. When I was in high school it all seemed so easy. I never really tried in high school and I seemed to do well enough. School back then was more a social event then a learning event. My favorite classes were math and ceramics. Why? I didn’t really have to try in either of those classes. I just showed up and did well. I had friends with me in ceramics, and math everyone knew me as the kid to get answers from. I hated English. Sorry, that was an understatement. I really hated English. In fact I hated English so much, I just didn’t go. And for that I still need half an English credit to get my high school diploma. But that is then and this is now. I have learned that if I like what I am writing about, I like to write about it. I have horrible grammar, and my spelling skills are also on the bad side. But I read well, and type on the average to good skill level. I learned that my writing style doesn’t really go by a standard set of rules. I can’t write anything at all, until BAM! it is in my head and then it just comes out. Then it is just some refinement, not really revision.

Core classes were not really my strong point in high school, except for math. I was an “elective credits” kind of guy. I do remember my English classes, and how much I hated them. I think they were my least attended class of my high school career. Reading never really appealed to me until my early twenties; it was then that reading for fun became one of my favorite activities. Now that I am back in school I realize how much I took for granted in high school. The effort I put into a single assignment now leaves me wasted and drained. Ten years ago, I could throw an assignment together in a night. Back then I little care for how well I did. Everything came to me so easily that I felt I never really needed to try to do well. Today I do care how well I do and I try hard to make it show in my work.

I have been a long time out of school, a little over ten years now. In those years I lost a lot of the things that I took for granted. I remember being able to just have one look at a note card or book, and being able to recall it a week later on the quiz or test. This was standard procedure. That was the norm for most of my classes, except for English. English was the class I could genuinely call my bane. If it wasn’t for my loving mother, I would never have made it through any of those banes. Now, ten years later, I am in another English class. Unlike all the classes before it, in this class I actually care how I do. This change in mind set, from not caring to caring, has made all the difference in how I view this subject. This year I have learned that if you care how you do, and you actually like what you are doing, you do it well.

I never really liked English as a subject. I mean, I speak it well enough, and I can read it well enough that I don’t get lost when reading directions. So why should I have to learn to write it? This year has opened my eyes to why it is important to be able to write well. Before this year I have never liked to write and, therefore, I have never written well. Our class had writing assignments that I didn’t really enjoy, and it also had assignments that I really did enjoy. By having these two types of tasks, the enjoyable and not enjoyable, I learned that if you like what you are writing about, you write it well. I liked a few of the assignments this semester, and the quality of work on those assignments showed. This was the first semester that I have ever been complimented on a piece of my writing. That compliment means a lot to me.

This semester in English I think that I really have done well. Even though there were writing assignments that I didn’t really like, I still tried my hardest on them, and I did reasonably well on them. There were also the assignments that I really liked. These assignments opened my eyes on how much just liking something makes you do it better. With my eyes opened, I wrote a piece that was a first for me. I really enjoyed writing “Painful Looks.” Through that enjoyment my ability to write came out, and it was something that I never thought I could do. I have never been complimented on a paper, note, poem or anything else that I have ever written. The compliments I received about that paper made me feel good. And in feeling good, I have had a thought: maybe writing isn’t as bad as I thought.

Paper 3 (Final)

Wind. Pleasure? Power? Progress?

I.

As I sit on the floor of the airplane, I marvel at the thought of the Physics I am about use. A cloud is slowly moving past the open door in front of me. The air rushing into the airplane is cold and crisp. As I am adjusting the unfamiliar equipment, I see the ground about 13,000 feet below. My heart is keeping pace with the vibrating plane, as I prepare myself for the next step. A touch on the shoulder is the signal to go; with a deep breath I release myself from the plane and begin the descent through the forces that are pulling me toward the ground.

The pressure of the air passing around me is intense. From what I have been told, within ten seconds I am falling at my terminal velocity of 120 miles per hour (Ryan, 6-7). I fall for about a minute through the very force I am going to use to slow me down. When I fall to deployment altitude, I reach down and pull my cord. After about a five second delay my parachute opens and catches the air pressure moving past me; it feels like I am pulled to a complete stop. The only way I know I am still falling is by looking at the ground that is getting closer, albeit much more slowly. I reach up and grab the steering toggles to control the rest of my descent.

A few minutes later I am back on the ground, adrenaline pumping and blood racing in my veins. I take a moment to collect myself; as I do so I think about how great it is to live in a time when we can harness the air we breath, and use it for our pleasure and purposes. I then start to collect my parachute which is lying on the ground behind me. As I am rolling up the cords I begin to wonder what other uses we have for wind.

II.

The day is bright and sunny, and I am looking over my holdings for any problems that may be happening. As I walk across my land I see that my corn fields are healthy and green. I am proud of how I have made them grow from a single small field, to a series of larger fields that produce much more corn. I have worked hard on this farm, but now most of my work is done by my great wind mills.

My mills face the direction from which the strong winds blow from June through September. I have built them with vertical sails enclosed on two sides, so the wind is caught and channeled through the sails. I use my mills for two purposes. I have mills that pump water for my crops, and I have mills that grind the corn into meal (Woelfle 14). Both of these operations are very important to the function of my farm. Water is scarce during the dry seasons in my land, so I pump the water up from wells deep beneath the surface of the earth. By channeling the water to the different fields, I have been able to grow crops even in the hottest summers. I used to have my family spend days grinding the corn manually, and as the farm grew we had to spend even more time. The time and money I save from not having to grind the corn manually, and not have to pay others to grind it for me, is why I have been able to build this farm to what it is in my life time. All this progress is because of my windmills.

As I finish my rounds of my holdings, I come upon a cart loaded with meal on its way to the market. I stop the driver and open one of the bags of meal; I grab a handful and let it fall through my fingers back into the bag. With a smile I reseal the bag and let the driver leave. As I watch the driver go down the road, I wonder where that meal is going to end up.

III.

As I walk down the starboard side of my ship, eating this morning’s cornbread breakfast, I take delight in seeing everything in order. I am thinking about the cargo I have stowed below. We have a full load we are taking up the coast to trade in port. We’re on a tight schedule, but I believe we will be fine. Trade has been good these years, and it is only getting better.

I am captain of an ardent class ship called Nefertiti. This was originally made as a war vessel, also known as a heavy frigate. We have a three mast configuration, with seven sails. We are sea worthy and quick enough to be efficient. We were originally setup with 131 ft. long gun-decks, equipped  with twenty-six 24-pounders, twenty-six 18-pounders, and a dozen 9-pounder chase guns. We have been cut back to one gun-deck consisting thirty 24-pound guns and a few 9-pound chase guns. This has made more room for cargo and crew to run the ship better (Woodman 86-89).

When I reach the quarterdeck I take a look upward and see the sails full of the force that drives us. We are carried along by an invisible power that catches our sails and moves us at a steady pace. I am always impressed with how efficiently the wind can move this heavy ship. Unlike a horse or mule driven cart, the wind that carries us does not ever tire. We move onward day and night, always with wind in our sails. As I start back up the port side of the ship, I imagine other uses for this wind.

IV.

I reach the base of the wind turbine and look skyward. I am amazed at the sight that I see. The wind turbine stands over two hundred feet tall. Its blades are about thirty meters long each, and they are colored gray to match the clouds. They rotate ten to twenty-two times per minute. The tower the turbine sits on is tubular, and required a large crane and skilled operator to install it. I think that this site is beautiful, even though the neighboring communities don’t like the skyline with a turbine in it (Wikipedia).

As I start to climb the tower I am thinking about how big these turbines really are. I am working on a mid-sized one, but I have heard of some monster sized sites in Germany. One of these was made by the company Enercon, model number is the E-126. That turbine makes about 6MW of electricity, and has an overall height of 198 meters. That’s twice as large as the one I am climbing now. Its blades have a diameter of 126 meters. The next largest site is also in Germany, and is made by REpower. It has an overall height of 183 meters and blade diameter of 126, and it delivers up to 5MW of electricity (Wikipedia). Amazing!

Once at the top of the tower I stop and look at the surrounding countryside from this height. It is really quite beautiful, and this brings another thought to me. There are wind turbines being built all over the world. Anywhere there is wind they are popping up like flowers in well tended gardens. While Germany and the United States are the current leaders in wind produced energy, they are not alone. Spain, India, China, Belgium, Brazil, Japan, Poland, Australia, and Canada are also on the list (Associated Content). According to Wikipedia, we have turbines close to the north and south poles that are powering research sites in those locations (Wikipedia)

Now that I am performing some of the routine maintenance on the turbine in my care, I can’t help but wonder what the future holds for the wind industry. There has been talk that the government would like to satisfy 20% of America’s energy needs, with wind energy by 2030. Although the 2008 turbine installations are making 8,358 MW of electricity, we still have a long way to go to reach that goal (U.S. DOE 1-3).

As I finish with my maintenance, and start my climb down, I think how glad I am to already be in this growing field. By reaching for the goal of 20% of our energy being wind energy, we are going to create about 500,000 jobs by 2030. In 2008 alone, 55 facilities became involved with wind related technologies, and the American Wind Energy Association reported that this field already has about 85,000 jobs. Currently $17 billion was brought into the U.S. Economy by the expansions in wind facilities and technology (U.S. DOE 1-3).

These facts make me smile, knowing that the field in which I’ve chosen to work is going to be around for a long time. It also makes me happy that not just some of us, but the whole world is catching on and trying to make the earth a better, cleaner place.

Works Cited

• Ryan, Pat. Sky Surfing. Mankato, Minnesota: Capstone Press 1998
• Woelfle, Gretchen. The wind at work. Chicago, Illinois: Chicago Review Press
• Woodman, Richard. The History Of The Ship. New York: Conway Maritime Press
• “Wind Energy Statistics.” Associated Content. February 10, 2009. May 2, 2009 <http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/1443491/wind_power_statistics.html?cat=15>
• “Wind Turbine” Wikipedia April 30, 2009. May 2, 2009 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wind_turbines
• Wind Power Today. U.S. Department of Energy, 2009 <http://www1.eere.energy.gov/windandhydro/pdfs/44889.pdf>

water

Water is the most abundant resource on our planet. It comes in three forms: liquid state (liquid), solid state (ice), and gaseous state (water vapor or steam). Though most of the water on earth is in our oceans, polar icecaps and glaciers, lakes, rivers, aquifers, and clouds are all sources of water on our planet. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Water)

Water is also an essential ingredient for life on earth. All life forms on our planet require water to survive. The majority of water on earth is not fresh water. Though not all life on earth requires fresh water, human and other life does require it to survive. Through evapotranspiration water is carried overland and distributed to most the plant live that requires unsalted water. This water also fills the freshwater lakes, rivers, aquifers and ponds that are supply the water for the freshwater users. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Water)

The chemical structure of water is what makes it unique. Water is attracted to it’s self, and bonds to it’s self through polar bonds. Hydrogen atoms are negatively charge, oxygen atoms are positively charged. The difference on these charges are what causes water to bunch together. If it wasn’t for gravity, a drop of water would make a perfect sphere. (http://ga.water.usgs.gov/edu/waterproperties.html)

Water is known as the universal solvent. This makes it important to life because it dissolves more substances than anything else on earth. This allows water to dissolve and move the essential nutrients of life, and move them through our bodies and the bodies of the other living organisms on earth. (http://ga.water.usgs.gov/edu/waterproperties.html)

wind

One of the first uses of wind that we know of, is in Persia as early as 200 B.C. The power of wind was used to replace the labor of donkeys and horses; it powered mills that were rotary grinders of corn, and was used on cooking purposes. The design of that mill was impressive in its time. It was designed with vertical sails, and would use the power of the wind being blown from any direction.

During medieval times wind was used not only as a source of power. It was used as an economic stimulus, for poorer people in some fix this place. Using these horizontal mills, people were able to obtain milling rights that were generally saved by the lord of the manor on the river. add more

When thinking of wind, how often does it make you think of water? This was the thought framers came up with when settling the western world. They used mills to pump water from wells that they used for livestock, residential, and train stations. This idea to use the wind to bring water

We first saw wind powered turbines here in the USA in the 1930′s and 40′s. They were made with sleek blades that allowed the propellers to move at a very fast rate to produce more energy. But with the installment of a power grid and electrical wires, these early attempts at wind energy were put to a halt. It wasn’t until the oil embargo of 1973 that the thought of wind energy resurfaced. The thought was to use it as a cure to outrageous energy prices.

BA8

Imagine a place where everyone owned everything. A place where all were equal, and everyone had a say in what was to happen. Now imagine this not as a place but as an idea. This is the idea of communism. An idea that in it’s core is very just and fair. It takes all the combined labor of a group of people and distributes the work, and wealth this labor creates equally among the people. But it is also an idea that may never come to pass.

Now, how much would you charge me for a ride to New York? How much to build me a new house? Or design me a new jet? Or make me a sandwich? How much is your labor worth to you? At what cost will sell it to others; so they can take it and make money from it? Now that you are thinking about how much you are worth. Know that the more you work, or the smarter you are, or the better ideas you have makes you more valuable. This is the idea of capitalism. Adding only that the there is little or no interference from the state.

Now if we were to take some of the finer ideas from these two political systems, and combine them together; you would create socialism. This is when you have a political system that is ran by the people, for the people. But it is monitored by a governing agency to ensure that the ideas of this system are being upheld.

Painful Looks (Final repost)

I.

I was only twelve the first time I had an altercation with law enforcement. I remember riding my bike back to my friend’s house on an icy cold night. My friend and I had earlier had a little too much to drink, and it wasn’t soda. We took a long time getting home and even longer sneaking back into my friend’s house. We were unsuccessful; my friend’s dad caught us. I recall only bits and pieces of what happened next, but I do remember that the cops were called, and I do remember the fighting and yelling, and I clearly recall the arrival of the police. I remember there being a lot of people, not faces but voices, a deafening clash of sounds that fought each other for superiority as I tried to single out what my fate would be. Out of the clatter there came an officer who became my focal point in the sea of chaos around me. He looked me up and down and didn’t say one word, just looked at me. I don’t know how this man made all the noise stop, how his very presence made the world stop spinning; he was something solid in a world of wavering vision. He asked me a question, and even though this man caused all other sound in my world to stop, I cannot recall hearing what he said. I just looked at him; and he at me, stuck with me in a sudden world of silence. He reached out and spoke again, and again I did not catch what he said. Without my permission I found my hand reaching up to his. He gave me a piece of paper, turned and walked out. I was left without an understanding of what he had said to me. I was left with just a piece of paper and some questions.

I remember the ticket he handed me, yellow, folded, red and black print. The print was blurry, so I gave up on reading it and looked around to see why it was still so quiet. I don’t recall handing that paper to anyone, but somehow I found it again in the hand of my mother. And when she spoke there was no confusion in the meaning of her words. “Get up, and get home now!” she said. She could have said this in Latin or ancient Greek and I would have understood. I did not hesitate; I was on my feet and out of that house as fast as I could manage.

I know that the walk we had to make was only a couple houses down the block, but it seemed much farther when walking with an irate and very hurt mother. During this walk I experienced pain just by looking in someone’s eyes. That is what is most clear in my mind, the expression of utter disappointment and hurt on my mom’s face. The pain it caused me cut me deep, leaving a wound that I would aggravate many times later in life. That was the first time I ever had seen that look, but it wasn’t the last.

II.

At the start of my High School years, my friends and I wanted to go to the mountains and party, but we wanted to party in a new way. So the five us loaded up in a car and went straight to an area we knew. We brought with us a newer type of party that we had discovered, a new experience that we wanted to share together.

When we reached our destination we were both excited and scared. We had tried these before but never in the mountains! What would happen? What might we see in the camp fire? How might we act so far from cities? People? Police? We thought nothing could stop us. Or so we thought. We didn’t even get out of the car before the police cruisers surrounded us. We never had a chance.

How did they find us? What’s going on? How did they know? These thoughts spun through my head like a revolving door as they pulled us from the car one by one. I was the youngest and therefore separated from my friends. They continued to keep me apart from them; I was so shocked and confused. Where did they come from? What’s going to happen? How am I going to tell my parents? That was the primary process of my thoughts, one more than most: How am I going to tell my parents? How am I going to tell my parents?

As it turns out that was the one question that was answered for me. I was taken to their little station and put into a holding cell by myself. I can recall that cell: brown carpet, light blue cinder block walls, dirty white ceiling, narrow window that they looked through to check on me every so often. But most of all I remember how cold it was in there. When the officer came in, he looked at me with a smug and overly satisfied expression. I remember thinking about that expression. It was like he had caught a murderer or something. When he spoke his voice matched his expression. “I contacted your father,” he says to me. “He sounded really upset. Said he would be here to get you as soon as he could.” This is when his smile got deeper, “How’s that make you feel? To know that your father has to drive for an hour or so in the middle of the night to come get you?” I was silent, not wanting to show this man that he hit the nail on the head. I must have been unsuccessful, because he shut the door laughing and walked away with a lighter step. It was as though twisting the knife was the bonus to his night. There I sat already wounded and scared, and dreading the confrontation that is to come.

It really didn’t seem like an hour before I walked from my blue cell, down a white hall and right in to my dad’s care. Dad looked at me for just a moment before returning his attention to the police Sergeant who was explaining the circumstances for me and my friends. He listened to all the man had to say, grabbed the paperwork and bid the police farewell.

The drive home was the rough part. When my dad had me alone in the car, it wasn’t what I expected. He didn’t say much at first, just kept his attention on the road and off of me. About half way out of the mountains he turned and looked at me. And it was a look so familiar, a look that ripped open the scar from when I was twelve. I had seen this look before, first from my mother and now from my father. He followed the look with a barrage of admonishments: “What the hell were you thinking!” “How could you be so stupid?” This is what I most remember hearing on that ride home, but what I was still thinking about and what I was feeling was the pain of the scar that was just reopened.

III.

It’s Friday, payday, and I just worked thirteen hours and am ready to relax with some friends. As I sit down to write my time sheets, my boss approaches me. He says, “Hey Frankie! We’re heading out to the bar to grab some beers. After you’re done you should come join us.” I smile, tell him to count on it and get back to writing with new vigor. I can’t wait to go join in some fun and let the day’s hardships wash away with a drink.

I pull up to the bar, and see that it’s not just my boss Vince, but also Richard, Holly, and Moe. Whenever we are all together, it always leads to good times. My heart soars; I smile even more and walk in with a swagger. We start off by ordering a pitcher of beer each, and set to them like starving wolves on a newly found meal. We move into our joking and playing time. We laugh, shout, jest and dance for quite a few hours before our days start to catch up with us.

Holly is the first to say, “I don’t know about you guys but morning comes real early for me.”

Vince, Richard and I snicker as Vince says, “You start work at nine. By then we will have been working for four hours.” This he says as another pitcher is delivered to us.

“You go on and get some beauty sleep; looks like you need some.” Richard says.

Vince and I are spouting twin streams of beer as we choke with laughter from Richards’ drunken wit. And as we choke and gag with mirth Moe stands and walks over to Holly and says, “There’s a little too much testosterone here for one woman to handle. I’m leaving with you.”

We guys leave it at that. We hug and say our goodbyes to the girls and sit to finish our drinks. We talk about work and shoot pool for another couple hours before the day starts to wear me down. As I return from the bathroom with the intent of excusing myself for home, I find that another pitcher is waiting at the table and Vince already has the cups filled. So I sit and join them for one last round.

When I am putting on my jacket Richard asks, “You okay to drive, bud?” I assure him that I am fine and that I will see him bright and early in the morning. I say my goodnights to Vince, Richard, the older bartender, and the cute waitress, pay my bill and head out to my truck.

When I climb in my Toyota I realize that I am pretty drunk. I take my time and get everything in order so I can put my full attention on the road. I fasten my seatbelt, set the mirrors and radio to comfortable positions, start my truck and pulled out of my parking spot.

That is all I remember until I am climbing out of my truck at Taco Bell for a meal my stomach so badly needs. As I walk toward the building I hear a man say, “Sir, can you come back here for a minute?” I stop and turn to see if the voice is addressing me. I see a cop car with the lights flashing and a police officer definitely looking at me.

“Is this your vehicle, sir?” he asks.

“Yes,”

“Sir, are you aware that you struck a light pole on the highway just now?”

“Wasn’t me,”

“Look at the front end of your truck,” he suggests.

As I walk over to look at my truck I realize that I may be wrong. The front end is crushed in, the windshield is broken and the hard shell over the bed is cracked in half. I stare at it dumbfounded, the officer moves behind me and says, “Put your hands behind your back please, sir.” I obey without thought, and as I do I realize that my forehead really hurts. He bends me over the crumpled hood of my truck; I feel I tickle go down my forehead, past my eye brows, down the ridge of my nose and I watch my blood drip on to my hood. I am focused not on the drops of blood nor the ruined hood of my vehicle; instead, I’m seeing my reflection in the paint, and I’m hurting as the realization of what I had done becomes clear. As I think of it again I feel the blood flowing, only it’s not from the wound on my head; it’s from the reopened scar on my heart, the scar that won’t ever heal, the scar that hurts the most.

IV.

It’s my friend’s wedding, and I’m dressed nicely and really excited. We are done with the wedding, itself, and have moved on to the dinner and after party. I really love my friends, because they thought of everything. They chose our tuxedos, what courses we would have at dinner, and they even thought far enough ahead to pay for the open bar. What I recall best about the wedding is a group of friends, drinking, laughing, cheering, and celebrating the union of two of our own.

That is also one of the last things I remember about the actual wedding. After that my mind is blank; I can recall only bits and pieces:

I’m out in the golf course arguing with my friends.

Now I’m walking through the golf course. I’m angry, but I do not know why.

I am wondering why my feet hurt and why I have no shoes. How did I get here under the highway a mile from the golf course?

And now only darkness.

I hear voices. They sound hurried and urgent. I cannot understand them. They seem loud and clear, but the words mean nothing to me. I try to move, but I can’t; something is holding me down! I panic and sit up yelling. I’m pulling with my hands trying to free myself. I can’t! I’m scared now. I look around. Everything is blurry and white; the sources of light are numerous and bright. “Where am I? Why am I tied up? Please someone help!” I say. Only my words are not comprehensible. I am uttering grunts and groans, complete babble to those listening. I start to thrash wildly for freedom. I want to go home.

As I am thrashing a pair of hands shoot out of nowhere and grab me by the sides of my face. They turn my head to make me see the only clear image I have seen since my awakening in this situation. I am looking at the eyes of a woman. Experience, knowledge and command look back at me. She holds my head still with the grip of a titan, forcing me to keep my eyes locked on hers. She speaks, and for the first time the voices make sense to me. “Your skull is fractured and you are bleeding on the brain. You need to lie back down and stay still so we can work on you.” She says this in a voice that is not harsh or scalding, but in a tone that tells me that this is no time to argue. As I lean back her hands never leave my face. She guides me back to a gentle landing on the pillow behind me. Once again the noise stops, the lights dim, and the darkness settles over me.

I wake up knowing only what the lady the night before had told me. I am in a hospital; I’m injured somehow and the injury is serious. As I look around I realize that I am not alone. In the corner a nurse is writing on a clipboard unaware that I am awake.

“What happened?” I say.

“Oh, you’re back,” she says as she walks forward and begins to look in my eyes with her flash light. “Where should I start? You came in three days ago. You had gotten into a fight with some police officers, and I would say you lost. When we received you, you were in bad shape. You had a cracked skull and were bleeding on the brain. We had to run CAT scans every three hours to make sure the bleeding had stopped, and we weren’t going to have to operate. You also had a broken nose, cracked wrist and sternum, none of which is bad enough to require a cast. You also have numerous scrapes and cuts from being wrestled to the ground. Now that you are awake we will look into getting you discharged and released into police custody.”

As she was saying this to me I was looking past her at the mirror on the wall. Beyond all the cuts and scrapes, the black and purple head and the now crooked nose, I was looking at the eyes of that reflection. In those eyes I saw the look I had seen so many times before. Only this time it wasn’t the pain I had caused someone else that looked back at me; it was my own pain I saw in those eyes.

BA6 Part 2 (employee)

You want to get peoples’ respect. And the way to do that is in the way you present yourself.  Part of your presentation is recognizing who your talking to and how you should talk to them. I just want you to know that it is important to think about what you are going to say, and how and when you’re going to say it. When you do this correctly, people will look at you in the way you want them to. If you don’t want their respect, don’t be respectful. If you want to impress them, show them respect and wit. If you want them to respect you, evaluate the situation and say the appropriate response to it. This way you don’t find yourself with your foot in your mouth, wondering what it is that you said.

BA 6 Part 1 (friend)

Look bro, all I’m trying to say is that it is important to understand how you talk to people. When I talk to you we use our own language. I can say things in a way that not many other people would understand, but you and I would. But when I talk to my boss I don’t say things the way I would if it were you. I try a more respectful approach. I don’t cuss much when I speak to him. I also try to match my respect and cuss level to the stituation that I find myself in. If I am talking to a cop I try to keep the word “pig” out my mouth, and I definitely don’t tell him I got some dope in my pocket. It is important to make these distinctions in the way you speak to others, so you don’t look like an uneducated lowlife who they are better off not knowing.

BA 5

add intro about learned lessons

I was only tweleve the first time I had an altercation with law enforcement. I remeber riding my bike back to my friends house, on an icy cold night. My friend and I had had a little too much to drink, and it wasn’t soda. We took a ling time getting home and even longer sneaking back into my friends house. We were unsuccessful, and my friends dad came after us. I remember only bits and pieces of the altercation that occured, but I do remember when the cops where called; and I do remember the fighting and yelling, and the arrival of the police. I rememer the ticket they handed me right before they turned me over to my mother, whom I had to walk home with. I know that the walk we had to make was only a couple houses down the block, but it seemed much farther when walking with an irrate and very hurt mother. That is what is most clear in my mind, the expression of utter dissapointment and hurt on my moms face; that was the first time I ever had seen that look, but it wasn’t the last.

I never got caught drinking for a long time after that, no I half learned a lesson there. It was four years later that I did get caught again, except this time it wasn’t for drinking. My friends and I wanted to go to the mountains and party, but we wanted to party in a new way. So the five us loaded up in a car and went straight to an area that we had been to before. We also brought with us this newly discovered party that we had wanted to try, again. When we get to our destination we are excited and scared, we had tried these before but never in the mountains! What would happen? What might we see in the camp fire? How might we act so far from cities? People? Police? Or so we thought. We didn’t even get out of the car before the police crusiers came from in front and behind.We never had a chance.

How did they find us? What’s going on? How did they know? These thoughts spun through my head like a revolving door as they pulled us from the car one by one. I was the youngest and therefore seperated from my friends. They kept me apart from them, I was so shocked and confused. Where did they come from? What’s going to happen? How am I going to tell my parents?  That was the primary process of my thoughts, one more then most. How am I going to tell my parents? How am I going to tell my parents?

As it turns out that was the one question that the answer was supplied for me. I was taken to their little station, and put into a holding cell by myself. I can recall that cell: brown carpet,  light blue cinder block walls, dirty white cieling, narrow window that they looked through to check on me every so often. But most of all I remeber how cold it was in there. When the officer came in, he looked at me with a smug  and over satisfied expression. I remeber thinking about that expression. Like he had caught a mureder or something. When he spoke I found the reason for the expression. ” I contacted your father.” He says to me. “He sounded really upset. Said he would be here to get you as soon as he could.” This is when his smile got deeper and his eyes more need good word here (mean), ” how’s that make you feel? to know that you father has to drive for an hour or so in the middle of the night to come get you?” I was silent, not wanting to show this man that he hit the nail on the head. I must have been unsuccessful, because he shut the door laughing and walked away with a lighter step; like twisting the knife was a bonus to his night. And there I sat already wounded and scared, then the wound is torn open more and I am left to wonder how I might survive the confrontation that is to come.

It really didn’t seem like an hour before I was being taken from my blue cell, walked down a white hall and handed right in to my dads care. He looked at me for just a moment before returning his attention to the police sargent that was explaining the curcumstancesof mine and my friends situation. He listened to all the man had to say, grabbed the paperwork and bid the police farewell.

It was the drive home that was the rough part. When my dad had me alome in the car, it wasn’t what I thought it was going to be. He didn’t say much at first. add more and refine upper paragraphs.

King/Obama Final Draft

George Washington. Abraham Lincoln. Thomas Jefferson. Franklin D. Roosevelt. Ronald Regan. These were men who, through trial and determination, will and faith, not only made this country what it is but helped shape it to what it is today. Through wars and depressions, droughts and storms there have always been leaders to guide us way through some of this nations darkest hours. Though some of our leaders have not always been the gleaming beacons of justice that we hoped they would be, we nevertheless followed them because they were our leaders.

Today we are going to discuss two more of these leaders of ours, two men that are known as symbols of their times. One of these men, who is now a national symbol for all the work and progress he made in the 1960’s with the Equal Rights Movement is Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. In his time he was the brilliant ray of light shining down on the distant lands of hope. He was a major factor in the organization of the movement, and he brought that hope to millions of Negros that were not given the luxury of hope or equal rights. Around the time of King’s death another man was born, a man that in the years to come would also cast similar rays of light upon those distant lands. His name is Barack Obama, who is now the President of our country. In earning the presidency he has turned those rays of hope upon not just the Negro community, but upon the nation as a whole. Where and how did these men get the power to give this hope? My opinion is that their power came from words; these two men were and are great at public speaking. Even though the content of their speeches were similar and their goals seemed to be also similar, these two men have different overall views and concerns to which their lives as leaders and speakers were aimed.

In order to better understand the beliefs and goals of these two men, we first need to know a little about them. Doctor Martin Luther King Jr. lived from 1929 – 1968. Born January 15, 1929 in Atlanta Georgia, his original name was Michael. He was born to a religious family; his father was a minister, as was his grandfather. In 1935 his father changed both their names to Martin to honor the German Protestant. He was a well educated man, graduating from high school at the young age of 15. He received a B. A. degree from Morehouse College in Georgia in 1948 and his B. D. degree from Mozer Theological seminary in 1951. By 1955 he earned his Ph. D. from Boston University. He lived in a time of great unrest, and he was a leader in some of the greatest civil right movements of his time. President Barak Obama was born in Honolulu Hawaii on August 4, 1961. His parents were students together at the University of Hawaii, his mother a white woman from Kansas, and his father a black man from Kenya. When he was ten years old he lived with his maternal grandparents and was enrolled in Punahou Academy where he was one of only three black students. Graduating from Columbia University in 1983 with a degree in Political Science, he then moved on to start working with the community in Chicago helping with low-income residents and public housing. By 1991 he graduated from Harvard Law School. He has lived in many places and has helped with many important issues.

From these brief words about the lives of these two men, we can several similarities and several differences. They are both African-American, well educated and religious men. Both pursued careers in which their inspirational words and their roles as leaders could begin. When reading the speeches that these two men have made you find some points they make to be almost identical to each other, even though they wrote these speeches many years apart. In “I have a dream” by King, he says, “When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir.” (One Hundred Great Essays, Pg. 388) This goes hand in hand with Obama and his “A More Perfect Union” speech when he said, “Of course, the answer to this question was already embedded within our Constitution- a Constitution that had at its very core the ideal for equal citizenship under the law; a Constitution that promised its people liberty, and justice, and a union that could be and should be perfect over time.” (More Perfect Union) These two quotes are almost identical in their meaning that every American has a right to freedom and equal rights. And yet these two comments came at two very different times in history.

Though the statements above are close in meaning, are they close in the context in which their authors put them? In King’s time, he used his words to call out to every person who could hear his voice, a voice that was calling attention to the fact that Negro people as a whole were being oppressed and not given the rights they very much deserved. When Obama made his speech he wasn’t addressing the fact that any one race or culture was being held back or oppressed. Rather, he was addressing the fact that America as a whole was and is holding itself back through the unspoken racial tensions that are brewing in all its cultures. By the time Obama made his speech America had watched the sacrifices that king and the people of his time made, and the American people learned from them. They haven’t learned completely, but they have learned a little.

This leads us to think about if we have really learned our lesson. It seems that from King’s time to Obama’s we have learned s little of what civil rights are, but what have we failed to understand? Did we fail to understand how to imply these rights to our public education? Both King and Obama make a point about segregated schools in their speeches. In “Letter from a Birmingham Jail” King states, “… To obey the Supreme Court’s decision of 1954 outlawing segregation in the public schools, at first glance it may seem rather paradoxical for us to consciously break laws.” (Pg. 376, Diyanni) He made this comment when he was discussing the difference between just and unjust laws. He was defending why people in his time were trying to uphold just laws, while they openly disobeyed unjust ones. Now, fifty years later when Obama’s made his “A More Perfect Union” he also refers to the same Supreme Court decision by saying, “Segregated schools were, and are, inferior schools; we still haven’t fixed them, fifty years after Brown vs. Board of Education, and the inferior education they provide, helps explain the pervasive achievement gap between today’s black and white students.” Obama is making this statement because a number of American schools are unofficially segregated. In this I mean that when students attend the schools near where they live, they are in a school where the student body is predominantly black. King was stating this when segregation was a forced will on the already withered will of the Negro populace in his time. A time when there was no choice about the matter. Why fifty years after the Supreme Court’s ruling are we still having a problem with this?

Since it’s obvious from the information above that while these men value many of the same ideas, their methods of attaining them often vary. Now let’s look at these two men individually, and how the times of their leaderships were also different. Dr. King was a Negro man, who lived in a time of great social turmoil. He was a leader to a people who were looked upon as not only a different race but as lesser beings. He gives example to this when one of his writings states,

“… when your first name becomes ‘nigger,’ and your middle becomes ‘boy’ (however old you are) and your last name becomes ‘John,’ and your wife and your mother are never given their respected title ‘Mrs.’; when you are harried by day and haunted by night the fact that you are a Negro…” (Pg. 376, Diyanni)

Being a Negro himself, how was he able to lead people and give them hope when they were treated and looked upon in this way. How could they see in him a spark of hope that would light the fire in their hearts to stand up and follow him to the changes that were so desperately needed?

The only answer that I can provide for these questions is that he acted when the time was right; spoke the words that so many people needed to hear that would spur them into action. He created a vision of a world better than the one these people knew. He painted a picture of a place that many people always dreamed of. In the beauty of his metaphorical language he made these people see hope. When you hear him say, “With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope.” (Pg. 391, Diyanni) With this powerful line how could someone not begin to hope? This was his power as a speaker, he was able to make his words so colorful, and the meaning to those words so vibrant, it was like looking upon a double rainbow, cast across a perfect sunset in the lull of a storm.

Now moving forward in time to 2009, to what some of us are thinking might be that “stone of hope,” Barak Obama, was born around the time of King’s death. This means he grew up in a time when segregation was just starting to be reformed. While he was growing up, and walking the path that would lead him to become our 44^th president, he witnessed racisms and what it was doing to this country. But he was also alive when this country started to realize the horrible truth of what racism is. He grew up and helped take some of these steps to better our nation. And in his ”A More Perfect Union” speech he states, “… to continue the long march of those who came before us, a march for a more just, more equal, more free, more caring and prosperous America.” (Perfect Union) He too can see what it was that King saw, and he too has the power with words that can and will bring people to listen, and help hope come into this world. Much different from King’s strategy in public speaking, Obama is not as colorful of a painter with words. He uses the strategy of politics and bold straight forwardness to captivate and inspire his audiences. When he states, “…a corporate culture rife with inside dealing, questionable accounting practices, and short-term greed; a Washington dominated by lobbyists and special interests; economic policies that favor the few over the many.” (Perfect Union) He is not using a problem that is affecting just one of our nation’s cultures or races; he is addressing a problem that is affecting the nation as a whole. A problem that affects all our parts.

Obama also recognized that this nation has progressed some, and learned from its horrible bloody past that we can now have and respect an African American man as our president. This lesson did not come easy to us and is not fully understood by all of us; but it has been accepted and respected by enough of us that Obama made this quote before he was elected,

“I would not be running for President if I didn’t believe with all my heart that this is what the vast majority of Americans want for this country. This union may never be perfect, but generation after generation has shown that it can always be perfected. And today, whenever I find myself feeling doubtful or cynical about this possibility, what gives me hope is the next generation – the young people whose attitudes and beliefs and openness to change have already made history in this election.”

If we haven’t learned from our mistakes, then how could a black man stand before thousands of people and make a heart filling statement such as that? Moreover, how can that same man become the leader of our country?

As I have shown above, Dr. King and President Obama are African-American men, who sprang from semi similar backgrounds, yet had similar dreams. They both worked long and hard at their dreams of a better more just America. Dr. king in his quest to get equal rights to all negro Americans throughout all the United States; to make every negro person in this country equal to white persons in rights, life, and happiness. He had a very hard battle to overcome the 200 years of segregated thinking, and did much to accomplish this through religious and non-violent means. Even though his efforts were cut short by his assassination, his dream lived on through the efforts of generation after generation of Americans who believed as he did. One of these was President Obama whom in much the same way, wants to work towards a “More Perfect Union”, but he is not pushing for equal rights or a stronger nation for just one race or creed. He is pushing for a stronger nation for all America, young and old, Spanish, Indian, Black White and Asian. I have no doubt that Obama will turn out to be the King of our generation, he will build a solid structure from the foundation that Martin Luther King helped pour. And Obama like King will do this not just by the actions he takes, or the words he speaks; he will do this by the way he handles those actions, and the way he speaks those words.