Smoking Disrespect

    Yesterday was one of my annual Christmas present deliveries to the families in need. Although the ending to the story is delightful the process of getting to the house was insane. I'm going to skip ahead a few details just spare you some craziness. Ultimately I ended up in a snow bank on the families driveway. Three teenage boys smoking got out of their car to help me and my friends. Instead of reacting in thanks when we were freed, we reacted in disgust, to their smoke. We were unthankful and reflecting upon that feeling, I am disgraced with myself. I could've at least said thank you.

    But then I got to thinking about how not very many teenagers smoke cigarettes anymore. How a few years it was a craze, but since kindergarten it has been pounded into my head that cigarettes are bad, to the point that I can't even respect someone who is smoking. Also, public smoking bands are making people hate those who smoke more and more daily. So is the strategy working? In a sense yes, as I know I will never smoke. In another sense, no, as am no discriminating against these people. Can't there be a happy medium?

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Your Choice: Part II

    I met her a few years back. I was attending a leadership conference in Washington, D.C. I knew no one who was going to the conference, and was randomly paired with a roommate. When walking into our hotel room, her stuff was already settled. Since my bus broke down I was obviously late, and had to hurry and drop my stuff in a big old pile before leaving.

    It was not until entering the room later that night that I met her. When I first saw her I didn't know what to think. This trip I had a goal in mind to meet as many different people as possible and just be a friendly person. My roommate (M we will call her for the purpose of this post), had streaks of pink in her hair. She was wearing mostly black and her eyes were surrounded by a smoky dark makeup. There was nothing natural about her look. Trying not to judge I introduced my self and we exchanged basic information such as what we like to do in our free time and where we live. I'm not going to lie; I pretty much wrote her off for the next few days, not purposefully, but enough so that I didn't really see her that much.

    A few nights later lying wide awake in bed, and pretty tired, I began to talk to M. I'm not completely sure what prompted me to do so, maybe it was my lack of sleep, but I did. Somewhere in our twisted conversations I fell asleep. The following morning, though, I felt like a whole new person who had learned so much about someone so different from myself.

    Turned out, that night we had an early bed time. Still not really tired, the two of us, M and I, kept that lights on in our room and began to talk. And as M talked, my whole perception on bad situations changed. M received a call from her mother, and M put her on speakerphone. Her mother did not sound like one at all. She cussed ever other word and talked about things teenage girls would gossip about. After the phone call I asked M was that always the case, and from there her story unraveled.

    M grew up in a home where both her mother and father did drugs and were clearly addicted. There would be nights that her parents would throw parties after she was in bed and she would wake up and walk down stairs, witnessing her parents injecting themselves. At the time M was so young she didn't know what was going on. Then her mom was arrested, and her dad decided to clean up his life while her mother was in jail. Her father dumped M at his parents' house and left with no further explanation. And that is where she grew up.

    At school she was already with "that" crowd. They were the kids that did drugs and drank uncontrollably, possibly to fit in, possibly because it was in her blood. Her grandparents knew, and she was never allowed to do that stuff. Seeing the direct correlation with her parents she chose the right decision, but became the designated driver. She explained to me how her friend first began drinking in elementary school, as that is what her friends witnessed her parents do. In a detailed explanation, M told me about the first time at recess her friend got drunk and she had to hold her friend's hair and take care of the drunkenness as her friend puked. How disturbing.

    When her mother finally was released from jail, M did not want to return. She wanted her mom to get her act together first. Around the same time M heard from her dad. He was sober and started a new family. M made the decision to move to that new family and start on a clean slate. Her mom still calls her weekly with her teenage gossip, but according to M, they are really close.

    As M told me this horrific story, tears were a constant stream upon my cheeks. She truly made me realize the importance of my family and just how much they have done to make my life the best it can be. I told M she was my hero; all that she has done is heroic.

    A few days later while still in Washington, D.C. my grandfather died a few thousand miles away from me. I never was able to say goodbye due to being I was part of the leadership program. Never in my life have I felt so greedy. My roommate was a girl who never even had parents or a support system, and I had everything. M was the reason I got through my grandfather's funeral and was capable of speaking at it.

    M's lesson didn't just teach me about heroism or to never drink and do drugs, but she told me about the true meaning of life. You can chose to be friends with whomever you'd like, but ultimately it is your decision to say no in bad situations and not use illegal substances. I hope to be just like M, and stay clean my entire life.

Your Choice: Part I

    The news recently reported Iowa football players suspended for drugs. A student at my high school was recently caught with drugs in his car with intent to sell, and who knows where he is now. I was recently asked to write an essay about prejudices I see in our community and I chose the topic of drugs and how people who are of lower incomes levels are portrayed by media sources as "druggies". The issue of drug abuse and use throughout the community and country has risen. The question isn't whether drugs should be legalized because they are illegal for a reason. The question is what we can do to solve these problems in multiple individuals.

    Just this last weekend I attended a meeting where a group of high school students got together and talked about problems we see in our schools. Coming from very diverse schools in our communities we all had different opinions and major problems we saw. Among the biggest were drug use and alcohol consumption issues. These problems have been around for years but have recently inclined. If the problems have been around for years, why haven't they been solved? And all this drug talk reminds me of a person I met a while back to defined resistance and power. Her story encouraged me to not fall into peer pressure and not follow the crowd.

Christmas: The Time to Give

    There's no doubt about it. It's all over news channels, plastered in newspapers, and talked about at company meetings; Christmas is the time for giving. But hearing this makes me wonder, why are other times throughout the year not a time for giving? Don't get me wrong, it's good for everyone to give, but why not the whole year long?

    Being involved in many volunteer clubs and organizations, Christmas is by far our busiest time of the year. We ring the bell for the Salvation Army until our toes go numb. We have thousands of dollars to spend on needy families throughout the community. We wrap presents to help raise money for different organizations. All of this stops at the ending of Christmas. Granted a lot of these things can only be done during the Holiday season, but why don't we find things to do throughout the year? People who are in need don't just stop being in need after the holidays are over.

    Another thing that amazes me is how all children want to do is get. My sister comes home from school talking about what she wants for Christmas and not what she wants to give others for Christmas. However last year me and her had a very memorable experience of giving. We bought thousands of dollars in presents for a single mother war veteran and her two children who had just escaped domestic abuse from the father who denied the children their toys. As we watched the women sob, unwrapping her presents and being so grateful for everything we had done for her, we somehow felt connected. I would think my sister would remember this when being so greedy. But she doesn't. Is this because that time of giving has ended for her? After a year passes without helping the community, she forgets. She forgets that there are so many needs in the community.

Wouldn't it be great if we could instill this giving sense throughout the year? Not just only in children, but in everyone. So I ask you, the reader, keep the giving spirit alive after Christmas. This task may be hard but I know you can do it. And myself, as the writer, will try to do the same.

Real Heroes of the World: Part II

    Sal Giunta came back to his hometown and a parade was thrown in his honor. I decided it was my duty to go and show my support with my friends. Turns out it was "too cold" for some of them to go. I ended up only going with one of my friends, freezing my butt off the whole time. It got to the point where I could no longer feel my toes. The truth is, though, my friends should have gone. Giunta could have easily said that it was too dangerous to serve in the armed forces. He took four bullets for our country! And some of my friends thought it was "too cold" to support him. Yeah right.

    To an even bigger disappointment, when walking to the parade route, all I saw was elderly people. I didn't run into a single person from my school. Giunta graduated from MY HIGHSCHOOL and no one from there came. Where is our patriotism, people? The older generations seem to understand the importance of protecting the country, but what will it take for my generation to? Although the answer to this question is undefined, any change has to start with me. I need to boost my patriotism and show my respect for those who have fought and are fighting. This can start with a simple letter thanking them for their service.

    Sal Giunta was without a doubt, a hero. He deserved the Medal of Honor, but when receiving it, he denied its value. He felt that everyone who serves in the war should get one, because anyone would do what he did if put in that situation. But being an even bigger person, he said it was a message to all the soldiers; it was all of theirs. Because without them, Giunta would not have been able to do what he did. Giunta gave others credit before taking any credit for himself. That is a true American.

    Someday I hope to meet Giunta and not just wave at him riding along in a parade. He's inspired all of us to become better Americans, whether we know it or not. Most importantly, though, he is a true hero for all of us to look up to.

Here is a link I found that shows just how important what Giunta did is to our country:

http://www.kcrg.com/news/local/Hiawatha-Parade-Honors-Staff-Sergeant-Sal-Giunta-110284029.html

 

Real Heroes of the World: Part I

    Within the last month I became intrigued and mystified by a story of a soldier who went above the call of duty. It wasn't so much of the selfless act he preformed that surprised me. It was more of how the public and audience reacted to what was happening and how media coverage, especially in my hometown, was dealt with.

    Staff Sergeant Sal Giunta recently received the Medal of Honor for his bravery and valor in the War in Afghanistan. The event that occurred in which he received this honor happened in 2007. As his platoon was returning back to their home base through a valley at night, they became under attacked by a group of Taliban soldiers. The formation of the Taliban was an "L" so the Americans faced fire from two sides. While under this attacked Giunta realized that a member of his group was missing and went to go look for him, Brennan. Facing continuous gun fire, he continued to go further and realized that there were three people ahead of him. Soon, it came to his attention that two Taliban soldiers were dragging Brennan, severely injured, away. Giunta continued to face the fire and killed one of the Taliban soldiers and injured the other. The Taliban's fled and Giunta recovered Brennan to carry him back. The incident lasted no more than three minutes. Giunta had been shot four times and survived. Brennan was pronounced dead later, after having surgery.

    Not only was Giunta the first to receive the Medal of Honor since the Vietnam War, but he also sent a powerful message to all. The message was that today, the military continues to make sacrifices for our freedom, and we owe them some respect.

    Growing up I have always respected the men and women in the armed forces. Daily, they make incredible sacrifices for our freedoms that we take for granted. They risk their lives for the future of Americans. In middle school I helped with them in an Adopt-A-Soldier program. The soldier that we wrote to frequently, was killed in a plane crash. It became reality for me then, the harshness of the war. But many students today do not thank those in uniform enough. They classify those who join as people who didn't do the greatest in high school and are just looking for something to do with their life. This assumption, however true it may be, is not the way we need to respect people fighting to keep our country alive.

    Sal Giunta was a graduate of my high school. My school newspaper put an article in it about Giunta, but I glanced over it as just another solider. I didn't truly know the extent of what he did until the day he was given the Medal of Honor. In one of my classes we watched a program about him and I was intrigued. To my disappointment, my other teacher didn't believe the importance of what was happening and we didn't even get to watch him receive the honor. How sad.

Never Give Up

    I recently finished the autobiography by Lance Armstrong called It's Not About the Bike: My Journey Back to Life. Not only was this book quite inspirational, but it also brought up a good topic of never giving up. Is there a time in life when giving up is necessary, or should one always go for their dreams, not matter the struggle? Personally, I believe that giving up is the worst possible solution. One must always try to go after what they believe in.

    Let's take Lance Armstrong for explain. He was diagnosed with testicular cancer that had a 3% rate of survival. In other words he was almost pronounced dead in the hospital. Not only was he determined to fight his cancer, but he wanted to do so in a way that would allow him to bike once again. After reading his story it was plainly obvious that there were days that he truly just wanted to die. He was in so much pain and struggling to the extreme that it almost wasn't worth it anymore. But through all of this he continued up the very steep mountain ahead of him and soon he fought off the ferocious disease and survived.

    Armstrong was always like that, though. As a boy he was very determined to accomplish his dreams. There was a time when he had a race coming up and was hit by a car training and had to get stitches. His doctor told him he couldn't participate in the race due to the accident. This did not stop Armstrong, though. Regardless of what the doctor said he went into the race, after cutting out his stitches with a pair of nail clippers. Crazy, right? Yeah and that was only the beginning.

    Armstrong had everything against him. When he was first diagnosed with cancer, he was going through a change in sponsors and was not covered under an insurance. Cancer is not cheap, and not having the money to pay for the treatment put an even bigger burden on him. Somehow he continued to pull through.

    But I think the biggest accomplishment of Armstrong was winning the Tour de France, probably the most strenuous and tiring races in the world. Biking up the Alps at top speeds and pulling oneself to continuously win the battle had to be hard. Through all of Armstrong's battles he was able to never give up, a true winner. Someday I would like to meet Lance Armstrong, and thank him for showing Americans what fighting really means. We all know that Armstrong was a fighter and had a sense of persistence that lacks in many individuals, but the true question is if giving up is ever okay.

    As said before, I stick to my claim of no. It is those people who never give up that accomplish the most in their lives and inspire so many others. They are the ones that we look up to in society. So giving up is fine if you don't plan on making a true difference in the world, except I plan on never giving up.

Strangers That Make the World Go Round: Part II

My dad arrived and took over the helping part, as I was probably not the best suited for such a job. Before I knew it, two other cars stopped and men got out to help too. They weren't men I recognized and the whole process took a half an hour, but they all helped. There were plenty of cars that passed the ditch in which my car rest. They didn't stop to see if we needed anything, but they were not obligated to. Soon, my car was rescued and everyone left.

    I was able to thank one of the men before he left, but I never got the chance to thank all of them. Now reflecting on what happened and the men (who I will never know their names) who helped me "just to be nice", I wonder in a situation like this, will I be one to stop and help that person, stuck and hopelessly lost, or will I be one to drive on, hoping that the next driver may stop and help. I want to be the one to stop, help, and make that person's day. I will never forget the events of today. The men who helped me are engrained in my mind. Their acts of kindness will never be forgotten. Because it is men like those, who truly make the world a better place, but most of all, make the world go round.

Strangers That Make the World Go Round: Part I

    Today, for the first time ever in a car, I saw my life flash before my eyes. Well, let me start at the beginning. This morning I went for a run. It was quite a long run and I took some back roads to get more mileage. While I was running I saw a car in the ditch. At that point I seriously wondered how in the world the car ended up in the ditch as, although last night was the first "real" snowfall of the season, while running it didn't seem too slippery to me.

    Later this morning while backing out of my driveway my car definitely skidded a little. As I went down the many hills around my house, I began to realize just how slippery it really was outside. I began to become extremely cautious and drove slowly, along with calling my mom asking her if there were snow tires on my car and telling her just how slippery it was outside. Immediately after getting off the phone with my mom I came across the hill where I saw the car in the ditch earlier this morning. When approaching the hill I put on my breaks knowing it was going to be hard to stop. I continuously put pressure on the breaks, but my car would not stop. Before I knew it, I was entering the ditch and I still could not get my car to stop. The car finally jolted to a stop, hitting a tree with a big "thump". The circumstance hit me immediately and I began to sob. I always knew I was a good driver. I'm always very cautious and have never gotten any tickets or into accidents for over a year since I began to drive. But here I was, in this ditch, in the back roads near my house, and I had no way out.

    I tried to calm down to call my mom so she wouldn't worry, but I ended up calling her sobbing anyway. I could hear the worry laced in her voice, but I told her to send my dad and that I was safe, not hurt. As I was talking to my mom a stranger pulled up at the top of the ditch. He came down through the weeds and knocked on my window. I opened the door, as he asked me if I was okay. I told him I was and he informed me that he could help me get out of the ditch. I took up his offer and he began to attach a connector to my car.

    I had never seen this man before, nor had I seen his truck. He was clearly a father; his son peaked over a seat into the back. The man probably had better things to do than rescue a "stupid teenage driver" from a ditch. Yet, through all of this, he spent his time to help me.