Personal+stories+and+papers

Martin Luther King Jr. Segrigation Paper By: Brady Daly

August 21st 1954, I step off the white bus and step into the crowd of African Americans that had just filed off of the colored bus. As I go on with my normal day, I will never realize how different it would be to not see the difference between races. The thought of mixing white and black would baffle my mind. But as I now know, we are no different, no matter what color of skin or how someone talks. Just because someone isn’t as rich as you, or because someone is richer than you, it doesn’t mean they might not have the same beliefs as you. Just because someone doesn’t sound like you or look like you, or doesn’t live in the same neighborhood as you, doesn’t mean that they won’t be friends with you. Nowadays, people see blacks and whites as one race, and no one disagrees. Everyone says that if they lived in those days they would be friends with everyone and not racist at all. Although kids don’t know, but they fallow what there parents say. So if your parents act like African Americans aren’t even human, I guarantee you will not play or socialize with them. Even though I completely agree with saying that racism is terrible and it should have never happened. Back in the day of racism I think almost everyone would agree with it, unfortunately. But of course the ones it affected, African Americans, obviously did not agree with it. Also some whites did not agree with the segregation laws, and tried to rebel against it but rarely came up in victory, because of the sheer numbers of people that reinforce the racism laws. It would have taken an amazing amount of confidence to overcome lows and other things that pushed racism. Most people don’t realize how much Mr. King over came to speak in front of a whole nation that fed off of racism. Imagining the sight of African Americans being blown away by fireman hoses must have terrified Mr. King, but he triumphed over it and spoke to America about his thoughts of segregation and racism, I would like to say that I would be courageous and speak up for the African Americans but unfortunately I don’t think many people can be that brave. I can’t even imagine how odd it would be if America was segregated by hair color or even by height. If it was segregated by hair there would most likely be laws against becoming bald. Also families would be torn apart because of differentiating hair color. If America was segregate by height, would there be a certain age when they begin to segregate them? Because people usually don’t stop growing until around age 20. It also differs between men and women, because they mature in height at different ages. Not only do they mature at different ages height wise but they also have different average heights. Men are genetically taller than women. So would there be a different law because of this? Stating that there is different heights for men and women. Would shorter people be shunned or would taller people be shunned from society? This would also tear apart families. No matter how people are segregated, it should never be tolerated.

Picture Paper: Jamaica By: Brady Daly

My eye lids fail to shut out the orange glow of the sun. I can hear the slight roar of boats speeding by, and young kids splish-splashing in the water just feet from my hammock. The sun slips out of view as a shadow of a stranger repels the light from my eye lids. I glance up but I can only make out a short silhouette, as I blink repeatedly I slowly regain focus and notice my younger brother Adam. I could hear him say “knee deep in the water somewhere…” for some reason his lips didn’t match the words? I quickly noticed my headphones and took them out. “Ping Pong?” he asked. “Sure!” I replied with no hesitation. We quickly ran to the entertainment room, in fear mom would noticed our escape. We didn’t want another speech on family bonding. As we played a couple rounds we relaxed and drank fruity shakes, supplied by waiters. It was four o’clock; we had to be back at the room by six, so we could head over to Rick’s Café. To waste time we acted like normal boys with nothing to do, and bothered the bartender with exact specifications ingredients in our shakes. After the fourth re-order of ingredients in our shakes, we decided that must have been enough, and we scampered on over to the ice cream machine. “Who can make the highest cone?” I challenged my brother. “I bet you a jump off of the ‘Rick’s Clift” that my ice cream cone will beat yours by three inches.” Adam protested, although neither of us wanted to jump off of the fifty foot cliff at Rick’s Café, the one who did it would be a legend. Too bad we got busted spilling ice cream and so we were not aloud to finish. Resulting with no winner in the contest. Later when we arrived at Rick’s Café I knew why they called it “Dead Man’s Drop”. “Dad do it!” I exclaimed. “Maybe later lil’ buddy…” My dad replied. “C’mon Dad, you know you want to!” I remarked “I know I don’t!” He shot back. “Baby!” I laughed. He flashed a funny face at me and we went on with our argument, “you do it!” he joked. “You first!” I argued. As the night went on we continued to arguing until I finally convinced him to make the jump. As he fell through the air he took a bad tilt and turned his 50 foot pencil dive into a flat out back flop. Later we headed back to the resort, to enjoy other amenities. Wow, Jamaica is amazing. Now sitting here in my cold plastic chair, I realize, I can’t wait to go back. Now I don’t know if we will ever be able to go back, but I sure do hope we do, and I hope we go soon. Just the thought of warm Jamaica I can feel a wave of warmth go through my toes to the tips of my fingers. The thought of the warm rain coming down feels amazing, and I can never get enough. As I think about the warm beach I can hear the soft sound of steel Jamaican drums being played to the beat of “Three Little Birds” by Bob Marley. I can hear a hoarse voice singing along, this, is the roots of the great place they call Jamaica.

Where i come from... By: Brady Daly

I am from a place Where barefoot is all to common And the scent of pine trees fills the air Where kids run aimlessly in their own worlds And the sounds of birds chirping evades your train of thought

I am from a world Centered around the crackling of a fire Where sap is a natural air freshener And Mom’s cookies are the main course of the summer Where cool sweet lemonade is a lifeline

I am from a land Where roaming cows come as often as cars in the city And the whistle of the wind replaces car horns Where rough grass scratches the bottoms of your feet And hot pavement burns your bare feet

I am from the wide open country Where four wheelers tear up the land And the sounds of the engines echo through the vastness Where splattered mud is a fashion And washing it off erases your pride