Relate your memory of an event in your life that happened at least five years ago that reveals something interesting and distinctive about you. Try to select something you can relate effectively in 300-400 words. Submit your response as a reply to this post no later than noon, Wednesday, August 20.
Personal Memory Narrative #1
Responses
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There was this one night, my dad was out of town, and I was either five or six. My mom had to step outside the house to get the mail from the mailbox, which left me and my sister alone in her room, waiting for her to come back. I remember sitting on my mom’s bed, waiting for her, for what felt like three hours to my five- or six-year-old self. I started freaking out more and more as the time went by, despite all of my sisters tries to calm me down, I was in full panic mode. So many thoughts were rushing through my mind in those moments because I was convinced that my mom was hurt. Despite all my pleading, my sister would not let me go outside because it was dark out, and in her mind, I was too young. So our only solution was to call my mom, so my sister grabbed the home phone that was located in my parents’ bedroom and called my mom’s phone. My mom did not pick up, and I began to freak out more because to me, this was a clear sign that my mom was hurt. My sister, still trying to keep me calm, decided to call my dad to let him know about this situation. My dad tried to talk to me, but I was crying at this point, so I was not able to respond to his words. My father then called my mom, and this time she picked up he then explained what was going on in the house to my mom. After that call ended, my mom called the home phone, where she explained to my sister that she was only outside talking to our neighbor, and she was just outside of the view from the window in her room. My sister then told me this information, and I finally began to calm down. Soon after my mom came back inside the house and I was able to give her a hug.
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Elena,
When you don’t understand what’s going on—as many young children don’t—small things can seem much more meaningful than they are. I’m a little surprised your sister’s attempts to help you feel safe had no effect, but I remember my own kids’ worries in similar situations.
Dale
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Before second grade, I often stayed home from school and spent most of my school day alone by choice. As I started the new school year, I began making friends and feeling interested in some of the topics we covered in class. I remember being ecstatic beating my friend in chess while our peers watched, and feeling bitter when he beat me in checkers. These experiences shifted my feelings of apathy toward school to joy. I was introduced to the idea of astronauts and astronomers, of which I was completely fascinated, so I sought out to share my newfound interest with the class. Our next trip to the library I flipped through different books on space and took some home for reference. Sitting at the home computer, I began taking notes on satellites and the International Space Station, making sure I wrote in my own words to avoid plagiarism. While I wrote on my hot pink post-it notes, I overheard my parents making sarcastic remarks telling each other, “Don’t bother her, she’s on important business.”
Even if they were just teasing me, I couldn’t help but suddenly feel insignificant. Regardless, I pushed through, completing a written essay of my space facts. Upon my asking to share with the class, my teacher was reluctant but eventually gave me time to present. Standing nervously in front of the class, I read with enthusiasm. The class listened quietly, and about halfway through the paper I began doubting myself, realizing that I was the only one in that classroom that cared about the paper I worked so hard on. None of my peers cared about the stars, especially not the way I was presenting them. I finished and sat back down quietly. For some reason I expected more support from someone. I hoped maybe my teacher would praise me for my work, but she remained indifferent.LikeLike
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Lilly,
That’s a shame that your teacher and your parents didn’t realize how important your project was to you and gave you some kind of genuine encouragement. Of course, there are all kinds of reasons why they might not have picked up on your enthusiasm. Maybe your teacher was preoccupied about the lesson she had prepared or about some personal matter. Your parents may have thought their teasing would have come across as affectionate.
So much of real learning doesn’t start until the student finds a personal interest in whatever it is they want to study. What a waste not to reward that interest!
Dale
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Thank you so much for sharing this story!!! It is important in life to not care what others think of you. If you find joy in something, you should be able to express that. I really enjoyed reading this story and thank you for sharing such a personal story.
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My sister and I always rode the bus home after school during elementary school. We would sit next to each other on the long twenty-minute ride and always laugh with one another. We got off the bus, as every normal day, and walked towards our garage door to enter the code and get into our house. As my sister was entering the code to the door, it suddenly wouldn’t open. She continued to try and try the same code, but the door wouldn’t budge. I became anxious and worried. My parents were still at work and wouldn’t be home for another 2 hours. I soon tried to think of a solution to this problem and decided we should knock on our neighbor’s door. My sister, at first, was against this idea because she was convinced if she were to try the code again it would open. I let her try the code one final time before I started walking over towards my neighbor’s house. I knocked on their door and it was silence. Fear became to overcome me as I tried to come up with a new idea. We both didn’t have cell phones at the time so there was no communication between my parents and I if something bad were to happen. I ran towards the other neighbor’s house and began banging on their door. I heard a dog barking and prayed that someone was in there. After two minutes of waiting, finally the door swung open and my neighbor looked at my sister and I with confusion. I told him the whole story on how we are locked out of our house and asked if I could use this phone. After he handed me the phone, I dialed my mom’s cell number with my fingers trembling. She quickly answered asking if everything was alright. I was on the phone with her and all of a sudden I bursted into tears. I don’t know what overcame me, but I couldn’t hold it in. After I calmed down, my mom simply said “Honey, this is no big deal, the garage door opener must have died. Calm down and stay with the neighbor until I get home.”
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Liv,
The details of what happened—what you expected, how many times you tried the code for the garage door, the unresponsive neighbors, etc.—help your reader understand how scary this was for you and your sister. Nice job. The story will have more impact if you tell us how old you were at the time.
I can remember when I was in seventh grade and my mother started working, my brother and I would come home to an empty, locked house. I forgot my key one day and had to figure out how to get in. Fortunately, it was a warm day, and I had left my second-floor bedroom window open. I got a stepladder and climbed in. If I were eight or nine, however, it might have been scarier.
Dale
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I was ten, sitting in the living room with my eight-year-old sister while my dad quickly ran to the store for dinner. Soon after he left, a storm moved in quickly, and the sky went dark, but I figured we would wait it out. I had stayed home alone before, so it felt normal until the lights blinked twice and went out. The house went quiet, and my sister started to get visibly scared. I calmed her down and told her we were okay.
The first thing I thought was that we needed light. We opened the kitchen junk drawer and found a small flashlight, which we turned on. I told my sister we should go back to the living room and wait there until my dad got home. I reminded her not to open the fridge and to stay by me. To give her something to do, I asked her to grab Connect Four, and I let her hold the flashlight. She asked if my dad was coming soon. I said yes, and we waited together. We set the game on the coffee table and took turns dropping the pieces. The rain pounded on the roof, but the rest of the house stayed quiet except for the wind and our voices.
After a few games, headlights crossed the window and slid along the wall. My dad came in with the groceries and a larger flashlight. He said, “Good job,” and set everything on the table. A couple of minutes later, the lights came back on and the clock on the stove started blinking. We cheered and put the game away. My dad laughed and said he could finally make dinner. He turned on the oven and took two frozen pizzas out of the bag. We set the table and waited while they cooked. The kitchen started to smell like pizza, the storm moved off, and we ate in the living room while watching a movie.LikeLike
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AJ,
It appears that you kept a cool head and found a way to manage what could have been a pretty scary situation. I wonder if the fact that you needed to help your sister manage her fear made you think more clearly and take responsibility. Do you think you would have handled it just as well if you were alone?
Dale
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A storm started to roll in. We packed up our beach towels and toys from hanging out by the water all day. The sky was getting dark fast and soon it looked as if it was night. We rushed inside to stay dry and went straight to the sunroom to watch the storm. My sister and I sat wrapped up in towels and watched the water. It picked up fast and soon the rain was loud on the metal roof. The sound filled the whole room. We watched the lighting strike the water, getting closer with everyone until we could see the branches of each bolt. After a while we decided to sort through the sea glass and driftwood we collected that day from the beach. Earlier, our neighbor had also dropped off jars of sea glass and crinoids that they had collected over the years. My mom and my aunt came prepared with mod podge, glass glue, and leather ribbon to make jewelry with our findings. Our parents sat around the dining room table while my sister, my two cousins, and I sat around the coffee table. We dumped out the jars of sea glass, driftwood, and fossils, picking our favorite pieces. While some of my family made nice necklaces and earrings, being very young still, I made a messy driftwood name plate to hang on my door.
To this day, 14 years later, I still have the same piece of driftwood by my door. Most of the time I walk past it and don’t give it a second thought, however, every once in a while, I’ll notice it a little bit extra. I’ll remember spending an exciting week in a little pink cottage by the water with the people that meant the most to me.LikeLike
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Charlie,
This is a great story about a situation that may have been scary for a lot of kids. Perhaps because you were with your family or because you were intrinsically less prone to fear than others, you seemed to enjoy the spectacle of the storm and the activity you and the other kids decided to do.
I like the way you bring your reader into the present in that last, short paragraph reflecting on the association you still have for that messy driftwood nameplate. Although any reader could do the math and figure out how old you were, the story will have a stronger context if you tell us up front how old you, your sister, and your cousins were.
Dale
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I was pulled aside at the end of one of my dance classes by two of my teachers and dance studio owners. They sat me down and told me that a younger girl on my dance team was diagnosed with cancer and unable to compete or perform for the rest of the season. I wondered why I was one of the first people to find out about this until they explained that they needed me to learn her part and fill her spot in the group company piece. I jumped at the opportunity because I wanted to do everything I could to help out and I knew that this was my duty as one of the older team members. When I watched the video to learn her part I saw that she had many solo moments, so I realized just how important it was that I learn this dance to the best of my ability. I rehearsed with the rest of the girls monthly leading up to competition and, even though it was a lower-level piece, I treated it the same as I did all of my other company pieces. I knew it was my job and the absolute least I could do to bring this piece together despite it missing a very vital member, so I didn’t even consider the much greater impact this had on so many people. I found out afterwards that the girl and her family were extremely grateful and even moved to tears after watching me perform. I also found out that the other girls in the group were so excited and honored to dance by my side because most of them had looked up to me for years. They even gave me a gift at the end of the season to thank me for the hard work I put into bringing the dance back to life. I was surprised by all of this appreciation and gratitude because in my head I was just a temporary filler, but to everyone else I was much more.
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Anna,
You set this story up by simply explaining the situation and how you responded to the request to fill in for that younger dancer as just something anyone would do to help. The takeaway for you and your reader is how meaningful to others such apparently simple actions can be.
I couldn’t help wondering about that little girl with cancer. Do you know what became of her? A short sentence at the end may help other readers who are curious about her.
Dale
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Having an opportunity to challenge yourself while also helping a friend who is struggling seems like a big deal when you are younger. It was very nice that it meant so much to her parents and you could offer that support even though at first it didn’t seem as important.
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The first time I saw the ocean was five years ago during a trip to the Bahamas. After years of experiencing Lake Erie waters, I had cultivated a tainted perception of what lay beneath the surface of the water. Swimming in murky brown currents only taught me to fear what I couldn’t see and assume nothing underwater was worth the effort to explore. However, there was always hope to swim under the clear ocean waters that my father often spoke beautifully about. On the day that I was to go snorkeling off Paradise Island, I was full of excitement and fear. I believed there would be nothing to see underwater but sparse schools of fish or rocks, since that was all Lake Erie provided. Regardless, I held onto my excitement simply because it was something new to experience with my father. Once the instructor had suited our group up with snorkels, life jackets, and fins, it was finally time to ease our way into the ocean, which, on this particular day, was slightly choppy due to strong winds. My father and I were the last two to step into the water, and I watched everyone bob up and down with the current, their heads popping in and out of the water with accompanying gasps or exclaimations. That moment was when I realized I had gotten in way over my head trying to swim in choppy waters as a weak 13-year-old, but I wouldn’t turn back. I jumped in and almost screamed at what I saw crowding the waters. There were tons of fish of all different colors and beautiful groups of coral coating the ocean floor. I was both overly terrified and joyful, which felt exhilarating, but an unrelenting fear of touching a living sea creature kept me glued to the ocean surface. My feet were practically out of the water as I swam, and my fear prevented me from swimming fast enough to stay with our snorkeling group. While my head remained submerged underwater, the group swam further away until my dad and I were caught in the way back. Though that fact was insignificant to the amazing colors that captivated my attention. I never knew the ocean could be so beautiful, and I will never forget that experience. Lake Erie will never suffice compared to any ocean.
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Olivia,
I enjoyed how you start out with your underwater experiences in Lake Erie prior to this trip to the Bahamas. Without the contrast between the “murky brown” water you were too familiar with, the sight of those coral reefs would still have been exciting, but nowhere near as much as they were.
Your own terror at swimming in choppy ocean waters as a “weak 13-year-old” wasn’t strong enough to diminish your joy. It probably helped that you had a trustworthy adult right next to you.
Dale
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I was probably around 7-8 and my sister and I were playing in our backyard. We were running around carelessly, going up and down the slide on the play place, playing tag in the yard, and just being kids. More important to note, we were running around in flip flops through the yard. My dad told us to wear tennis shoes in the yard so we don’t step on something and hurt ourselves, but what could go so wrong in the backyard? We probably should’ve listened to him after he told us so many different times to wear actual shoes, but again, what 7-year-old wants to wear shoes when their parents tell them to? If you’ve ever worn flip flops, you know that when you take a step, your foot connects with the shoe and when you lift your foot up to take another step, the shoe disconnects with your heel. Well during that short period of time when my foot and flip flop were disconnected, a bee flew in between my shoe and I stepped on it, squishing it, and killed it. And when I killed it unintentionally, it stung my foot, and it hurt, and I cried the whole time my stepmom attempted to pull a stinger out of my foot with a tiny pair of tweezers. I don’t recall if I had an allergic reaction to that sting or if I was totally fine right after, I’ve only ever been stung twice since, one of which did not leave a stinger and was on the top of my foot, and the other in which I was wearing sandals and repeated the flip flop incident and my foot swelled up with hives. So, I’ve discovered I am allergic now. I’ve also discovered I am prone to being stung on my feet.
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Kaci,
This story reconstructs the unfortunate outcome of a fun time that stopped being fun when a bee stung the bottom of your foot. You narrate it like a lesson, how your father had told you to wear something sturdier than flip-flops when you were playing outside. One takeaway would be to always wear shoes in similar situations. Another would be to simply accept that accidents happen sometimes and to go with the flow. You’ve learned that you are allergic to some kinds of insect stings and that you are “prone to being stung” on your feet. Should your reader assume from that second lesson that you are still prone to running around outside in flip-flops?
Dale
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In September of 2018 my parents and I went to go see my cousin graduate from the Army bootcamp at a base in Georgia. I remember the very long drive down, but I was very excited because I got to see my aunt and uncle who live in Florida and I didn’t get to see them very often. Also, I got to miss school so that was always a plus for me. When we got there I remember driving into the base and I took a picture of the welcome sign. Before the ceremony started we went into the gift shop and we were looking for t-shirts and souvenirs because anywhere we went I always made sure to get a t-shirt or sweatshirt out of it. I finally landed on a grey hoodie that just said “ARMY” written in black. I don’t remember much of the ceremony but I do remember my uncle taking me to the snack concession stand and we got some waters and snacks. My aunt and uncle were able to tap my cousin out of bootcamp and I remember some of the army men were getting deployed already and I was nervous for them and I remembered asking my mom if my cousin would have to leave too. This trip was, in all, very memorable to me because it was the last time I ever saw my uncle before his unexpected death. I was so grateful to have that fun family weekend with my aunt, uncle, and cousin and I hope to always remember it. On the drive back home we got stuck in the worst traffic in Tennessee and it made my dad mad because he had to go to work the next day I believe and our ETA kept getting pushed back later and later. But we made it back home and I got to show everyone my cool new sweatshirt that I got from the trip.
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Claire,
This is a fun road-trip story with a poignant subtext: You didn’t know it at the time, but it was the last time you would be with your uncle. Most of the details are upbeat, however, despite the overly long trip home and your dad’s impatience.
Dale
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Roughly five years ago, I was enjoying a typical cheer practice on a warm Wednesday night. The heat was sticky but the cold air from the massive industrial fans was making the sweltering temperatures tolerable. I didn’t expect to walk out of the gym with a long term injury. I had broken my arm, and there was no telling if or when I would be back. Knowing that the thing I enjoyed the most was being taken away from me was very challenging. I spent every second of my free time in the gym, and having to take the time to heal and rest was difficult for me. However, I learned quickly that the only way to recover was to allow myself a chance to breathe and step away. Letting go of something you love isn’t easy, but I learned that the best path to success is to give yourself grace, get back up, and try again.
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Ava,
In this short narrative, we learn, very briefly, about a serious injury that happened while you were at cheer practice, why it was so difficult for you, and what you learned as a result. I think many readers would want to know more about how the injury happened, how long you were unable to participate in cheer, and what it felt like when you finally were able to start up again.
Dale
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I was 10 when I made my first purchase all by myself. I had been saving up my birthday money for months; the cold, hard cash that my great-grandpa sent me in crisp, white envelopes. Three years earlier, I had seen the coolest LEGO set of all time, the fabled Millennium Falcon. I thought it could never be mine, its grandeur too marvelous for my peasant fingers. Now, however, I finally had the $100 required to buy the set, and I declared to my family that it would be mine. My mom drove me to the LEGO store, and I marched in confidently, ready to become the master of all LEGO. I reached the last aisle, turned the corner, and there it was… the fabled Millennium Falcon, for $150? I was heartbroken. Everything I had ever wished, my hopes and dreams, came crashing down around me as I learned the hard reality that prices are constantly changing. The capitalist gods had snatched my precious LEGO set from my grubby little grasp. At first, I was bewildered, confused why the price tag was wrong. As my mom explained the harsh realities of our economy, tears started to roll down my 10-year-old cheeks. How was this fair? Thankfully, I have been blessed with a mother who graciously footed the remaining $50. I learned a hard lesson that day, however, one that I have never parted with. LEGO sets are always worth it. When I got home, I didn’t care that my mom had to pay extra. I didn’t care that I got the broken, dented box. When I got home, I tore into that mangled casing, so excited that it was finally mine. I skipped dinner and bedtime, connecting pieces far into the night. At 8’o’clock, I climbed into bed, exhausted and proud of my new creation. Now, that same set exists as a hundred others, collecting dust in my attic until I return to it once again.
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Miles,
You invite your reader into your ten-year-old mind as you saved up your money and anticipated how it would feel to own a relatively expensive LEGO set. We learn how you felt on the day your mother took you to the store to buy it, only to find out that its price had gone up by 50%. Then, your disappointment turned to joy when your mother made sure you got it anyway. Finally, you brought it home and all you could think of was assembling it.
At the end, you share a brief lesson about the fleeting nature of many of the things that give us pleasure in this life. Nice work.
Dale
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Almost ten years ago now, I decided to go to an audition that would alter the course of my life. My best friend at the time heard of these auditions happening for a professional choir, she didn’t want to go alone, and I get dragged along. We arrive at this old building in downtown Cleveland, get in the elevator and go up to the 11th floor. The doors open and there was a poster, “The Singing Angels”. That was the first time I had heard this name that I would associate with the rest of my youth. We go to fill out paperwork and I get urged to fill out a form for an audition. After I get back home, my mother looks up more about the group, turns out I auditioned for a professional youth chorus. A few weeks later we get a letter in the mail informing me that I had made the group “littlest angels”. This group was made up of the youngest voices, a chance to learn and improve while still doing small performances. Here I learned how to perform, learned the very foundations of music and harmonies, and how to lead and conduct my peers. The next season I moved up to the “Performing Chorus”. Little did I know that I would be performing at Playhouse Square twice a year, among performances for the zoo, the news, and small groups. This time in my life fueled my already burning passion for music. I have been performing ever since. I had a head start on my peers in high school.
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Sam,
Wow! That’s a pretty impressive accomplishment to have been invited to join an elite performing chorus. It’s more of a history of what has happened as a result of that first audition and all the experiences (and serious effort, no doubt) that followed. I think a reader might be curious about how you had to be “dragged along” by your friend and what happened to her. Did she also get accepted? What was the audition like?
I don’t expect you to answer all these questions, but I encourage you to think about the kind of details that a reader will want to know.
Dale
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When I was seven years old, I already knew I had a passion for performing. My mom had signed me up for my very first theater camp that summer, which also meant that I had to go through my first audition process ever. As a seven-year-old, the idea of standing in front of strangers and singing was very intimidating. I remember walking into the auditorium and not knowing a single soul. My nerves where overwhelming, but I eventually found some fellow new kids to sit with. They brought some comfort to the situation, even if we were all scared of what would happen. At this camp, students had to perform in front of all fellow campers, not just directors. This made the audition even more terrifying. Despite my heart racing and palms sweating, I finally got the courage to walk on stage and audition. As I started to sing, the fear slowly melted away. My anxiety was quickly replaced with relief after I finished singing and exited stage, knowing that the scary part was finally over. My first audition will always serve as a core memory in my life. I went on doing this camp every summer until I graduated high school, and my love of theater grew with it. Although this memory was just a small moment in life, it was the start of my passion. That first audition not only gave me the confidence to perform but also planted the seed for my future career. My first audition as a child served as a base for all of my college auditions. It’s all traced back to the courage I found during this first experience.
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Alyssa,
You share with your reader your apprehension before your first audition at theater camp when you were only seven years old. We learn that you got through it successfully and that this became the pattern for every camp since, presumably for all the parts you pursued in high school and for all the auditions required for getting into a collegiate theatre program. I suspect “success” hasn’t always meant getting a particular part so much as shedding the nerves and being able to put your whole self into the performance, regardless of the outcome. So, what piece did you sing? Is it one you chose or was it assigned?
Dale
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Furniture stores. They all exude the same energy of stillness and peace. However, to this day, walking into a furniture store still fills me with the same anxiety and panic I had felt at the age of 7. On this specific chilly day in October, my parents decided it was a good time to go browse our local furniture store. As we walked around the store, I was amazed at how many different variations of furniture there could be in this world. I began to wander the store, allowing myself to romanticize how much better my life would be if I was able to have the pink princess dresser standing tall in front of me. As I turned to tell my mom how badly I needed this in my room, I quickly realized my parents were no where in sight. While panic filled my mind and my chest became heavy; I raced up and down the steps and through the hallways screaming my moms name. The people surrounding me became aware of my situation and they too took it upon themselves to help me find my family. Somewhere between the beanbags and the clocks, after what it felt like years since I saw my parents, I spotted my moms black Mary Janes.
“Mom I thought I had lost you forever” I expressed to her as I raced to her arms.LikeLike
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Julia,
A furniture store would be easy to get lost in, especially when you’re small and can’t see over all the stuff in such a large, open space.
I remember coming home from a friend’s house when I was five to find my house empty and my family gone. I didn’t exactly panic, but I got increasingly worried as I waited by the back door. Eventually they pulled up in the family car and were surprised to see me home earlier than expected. I think I might have been too shy to scream in a store, as you did, but I’m sure I would have panicked and started looking for them.
Dale
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A memory that I can remember and is distinctive to me occured when I was around 7 years old. I was in elementary school and it was around the time of year where they started the hearing and reading checks on all of the students. I confidently sat in the ear checking station knowing I would hear all of the beeps in which I did. I then did the same with the vision screening station as well as I read all of the letters on every card I grew more and more confident. Then headed to the color station to check for color blinding. Of course I went into it with a bunch of confidence as I have done for the first two previous stations. I sat down in the chair and as the instructor opened the book to begin the test I started to panic. The very first page I saw no numbers in between the color circle. She started pointing to it asking over and over again what number I could see in between the colors. As I sat there every second that went by felt like hours, I could not see a single number. As I sat there I froze and I looked up at her as tears started to appear. I was so embarrassed and nervous as i told her that I couldn’t see a single number. She looked at me and said “Really?”. I said yeah and we continued going through the pages I could see about half of the numbers in the cirlces and the other half i just couldn’t see. She had to mark the failed check box next to it and i started crying. Then she had to call my eye doctor and set up a colorblind appointment for me. I remember walking into the eye doctor that day and I was so nervous. Long story short I ended up testing positive for being red/green colorblind. It all made sense to me at that moment why I couldn’t see those colors on the pages. I will never forget that memory.
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Dylan,
You invite your reader into your inner thoughts as a seven-year-old. You felt confident and successful after your hearing test and your first vision test. When you weren’t able to see the patterns in the colorblindness test, however, you felt as though you, somehow, had failed. Of course, present-day Dylan knows that this was not a failure, at least not in the usual sense. It was something you simply haven’t been equipped by nature to do.
Has this posed any difficulties or practical limitations for you in your life so far? Is driving, for instance, a problem?
Dale
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My younger sister was beginning to start riding her bike without training wheels for the first time. This was something she very easily caught on to and had no fear of tipping over whatsoever. I, on the other hand, was terrified to ride my bike. Every time I would try to, I ended up falling and scraping myself up. Years afterwards I decided that there was no reason I needed to learn how to ride a bike, until that day. When I saw her be able to so easily do so, I felt dread and determination to also master this skill. I felt as if my baby sister should not be able to so easily do a task viewed as simple that I was too scared to do myself. The very next day, I spent the entire afternoon riding circle around in my driveway until I was successful.
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Mallory,
This short account contains a valuable insight into human motivation. Sometimes, the intrinsic value of a particular skill or accomplishment—what it is worth for its own sake—is less important than its competitive meaning. When your little sister was able to do what you couldn’t—ride a bike—you pushed yourself and succeeded. I assume there were a few more scrapes and falls that afternoon, and it would make the story more impactful if you were to develop that part more fully.
Dale
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A memory that sticks out in my past years reveals the distinctive trait of wanting to design and create new ideas. About seven to eight years ago, I had the idea to start making YouTube videos, taking inspiration from my older brother, as well as famous YouTubers I watched. This was quite ambitious, but I learned a lot of valuable skills and about myself. I knew that to start a successful channel, I needed a logo, a name, and other unique images to base my channel around. This led me to design my logo on a few phone editing apps without much experience. I learned a lot about design and eventually created a logo I was proud of. After the completion of my personal logo, I continued to create other logos and digital art. Furthermore, creating good-quality videos requires skillful video editing, so I had to experiment with editing on different software. Like logo creating, I very much enjoyed editing the videos I made and ending with a completed video to post that I was proud of. As I continued my YouTube channel, I discovered what I enjoy doing and sharing in my videos. My YouTube channel was never very successful, but I discovered many skills and aspects of myself I never knew were there. Later on, I was asked to design a logo for a disc golf tournament, and I participated in logo design for my hometown of Norwalk. To this day, design, editing, and filming skills are used in my daily activities. Taking on the task of creating a YouTube channel was important to my self-development and finding my true interests. It also gave me the chance to learn new skills or talents and put them to use as I developed my channel. This event early in my life may have been a key moment that eventually led me to my current major, Architecture.
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Dylan,
It’s pretty impressive that at the age of ten (or so), you mastered enough of the skills and technologies to produce video content for a larger audience than just a few friends or family members. You say your YouTube channel was “never very successful,” but it doesn’t sound like that was a big disappointment for you. Along the way, you learned a great deal and discovered your passion and talent for design.
I’d love to hear about your first published content on YouTube.
Dale
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On October 9th, 2018, I remember suddenly being awoken by my parents with very somber expressions on their faces. At the time, I was very confused and scared. My parents informed me that over night, my grandfather had passed away. I was heartbroken. My grandpa, who I was extremely close to had passed away, unexpectedly, the night before he was supposed to be released from the hospital. I remember a very heavy feeling in my chest. It almost felt like it was difficult to breath. I was panicking. My parents gave me the option to take the day off school, which I accepted. We spent the day recalling all the fond memories of my grandpa. Fishing trips, spending time in the shop, going out to brunch, him and grandma babysitting me as a child, and many more fond memories. These are only a few of my favorite memories with my grandpa. It helped very much to talk to my parents about his death. It also felt better that I was not going through this time alone. Leaning on my family members helped me to get through this rough time. It took me quite a while to accept my grandpa’s death and to start to feel better about it. I remember vividly going to school for the next few days and feeling very down. Seeing my friends did not feel as good as it usually did. It was very hard to put myself into a happy mood. Today, I am no longer sad about my grandpa’s death, but happy that I got to spend the time with him that I was able to. I will forever cherish the memories of my grandpa. I will never forget the memories we made, the things he taught me, the examples he set for me, and the heavy feeling on my chest the morning I found out he was gone.
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Braden,
You were probably old enough seven years ago to understand what it means when someone dies, more clearly, certainly, than a younger child. Nonetheless, I suspect your grandfather’s unexpected and sudden death was your first experience of losing someone close to you. I’m glad your parents shared their grieving process with you, helping you to concentrate on your past experiences with a special person and learn to face the reality that there is no future chance to make new memories.
Dale
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A little over 5 years ago, I convinced my parents to get another dog. At this time, we already had one dog who had been with me since I was a kid. When convincing my parents to get a do,g I made a slideshow presentation. On the slideshow I put different golden doodle puppies being sold in Ohio, as well as multiple websites with the dogs they could look into themselves. After a lot of research on my parents and I’s part, we finally found a litter of puppies about an hour away. My dad and I had a plan to visit three different litters that day. The first litter I met a dog names Scarlet, the thing that stood out about her was that she jumped out on the penned fence that was easily over twice her hight. After we visited the second litter my dad and I decided to cancel seeing the last liter and go back to buy Scarlet. I took her home that day as well. I renamed her Havan. She is smaller than the other dog I had at the time but they quickly began to get along. Havan quickly became attatched to me, she was my fur baby.
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drichard-hcopk 
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