humanity
Humanity begins at home.
*NSYNC + 13 Year-Old Me + An Angel
Family vacation. In my early teens, my father had a questionably luxurious job which allowed him to travel for work. As he loved his family more than anything, this gave us the grand privilege of tagging along a few times. (We were homeschooled)
By Jeremy David Witt5 years ago in Families
The Joy's Of Uncertainty
I use to wake up every morning and before I’d leave for work I’d always look at the news. I knew I wasn't going to see anything that was going to make me happy. But I felt it was important to develop my understanding of the world in order to be a better part of it. I would see people both locally and around the world who were stricken by poverty, not by their own decisions, but by the time and place they happen to be born. The only real difference between the kinds of people who have had to live their lives starving and freezing and myself, In my comfortable, normal, first world life, is the lives that we were born into.
By Tyson Rich5 years ago in Families
Pomegranate
Jemima was 10 years old and could not remember a moment in her life when she had not been hungry. She knew her father worked hard to earn money, but she also knew that not a lot of it made it into her mothers worn leather purse, so there was rarely much food on the table and her two older brothers were quick to grab what there was. When she tried to fight them for her share, her mother stopped her saying that the boys needed it more than they did as they must grow into strong men, girls shouldn't eat too much anyway, no one wants a fat wife. After helping her mother clean the kitchen Jemima would lie in her bed telling her rumbly tummy to be quiet as she imagined the delicious meals she would make when she was a grown up and never have to share.
By Rebecca Speirs5 years ago in Families
The Count of Three
“Tom!” “What?” Tom yelled. “Tom!” “What is it?” he yelled again, then cursed under his breath. He ran to the window, hoping there was some other Tom around. Alas, his sister Lindsey was in the street, staring up at him. She waved, her normal way, so energetic — but she was not smiling. He waved back, slightly confused, but the ritual was the same as other times. She wanted him to get in the car.
By Trenton Anthony5 years ago in Families
The Last Divination
I. My grandfather, before he was hit by a truck, used to tell me stories about our ancestors in the mountains. For millennia, he claimed, they raised sheep in the same valleys, drank water from the same wells, and practiced the same traditions. It was, according to him, an unforgiving life: sometimes it rained until their huts were swept away, or their sheep were devoured by wolves. But as there was hardly anything to take from these poor shepherds and farmers—and because the mountains were considered to be impassable—they were rarely visited by armies.
By Willa Chernov5 years ago in Families
Hope Restored
Harvey was worried. Taking stock of his situation he was running out of food. He had four teenage boys, his brother and himself to feed, and as a single father there is only so much money to go around. Checking his bank account, he had approximately $25 to live on for the next few weeks and in order to get out to his customers in the remote places they sometimes lived (to service their receivers) he would need to fill his fuel tank before he got paid again (which would be after the holidays and the start of the new year.) To top it off, Harvey was not able to get his boys more than one gift each for Christmas this year. He had also missed out on signing up for the local program that ensures needy children get a better Christmas. He had heard about it too late and he was too busy taking care of things for his household and at work to be able to apply on time.
By G. R. Reed5 years ago in Families
How I got to Spend Christmas in the Snow in California
It was 1954, the war was over and people were finally starting to have fun again. I was only 6 and was unaware of the war time that my grandfather died in. I only saw him in pictures. He was a big strong man. Before the war he was a lumberJack. He built the house we lived in. My dad was his only child and my grandma died just a couple of years after him. Dad says she died the day the telegram arrived telling us that dad died. I never got to meet her either. My moms parents would come to visit every summer, when the weather was bearable, as grandpa would say. They lived in the lower 48, in the state of California. He always says he will take me to visit one day. But my mom said not until I was 16. That seemed like a lifetime at the time. We lived in a little town of Fairbanks Alaska. It was wild there. Dad would take me sometimes on the weekends to pan for gold. Once I found my own nugget. It was small, but still enough for me to open my own bank account. Got $36 in it too. I felt so rich, but dad said I could save it for when I go to California.
By Connie Sahlin5 years ago in Families
I Chose Not to Teach My Child to See Color
Children aren't born racist Children aren't born color-blind either. They can see color at a few months of age and soon start to develop the ability to categorize and group things. In a very natural way, they notice the difference in skin color among the people who interact with them.
By Lynda Coker5 years ago in Families
