Introduction:

Throughout this process of writing multiple genres, I had to keep in mind how to relate different experiences of my life to a bigger life lesson. I wanted to give my readers something interesting on the pages while still being able to show them what I learned in the community where I grew up. I hope that my readers can look at my experiences and connect them with their own personal memories. I want them to be able to think about how their own communities shaped them into the person that they are today. The purpose of both of my genres as a whole is to show how important something is before it’s gone. In the case of my short story, I took advantage of my dad always looking out for me in uncomfortable situations and when I had to start taking care of things on my own I panicked. In the case of my journal, I got used to having someone around and taking their positive outlook on life for granted. Not everything is going to be the same forever, life changes all the time.

Complete Project Author’s Note:

At this point in my writing I am several drafts in on both pieces. I tried to add as much description and detail as possible so my readers can experience what I went through. In my final drafts, I hope to provide my readers with smooth drafts that are easy to follow. I also want to make sure that they take the lessons out of it that they are supposed to. I tried to work up to the main points, subtly leaving in small details here and there rather than just bluntly stating what I wanted them to learn. Thank you for taking your time to read my piece, I hope that you are able to relate my experiences with a few of your own.

Short Story Author’s Note:

At this point in my writing, I have gone through and looked for both grammar errors and dead verbs and eliminated a majority of them. I went through and made sure I had a thorough amount of description so the reader can be right there in my shoes. I hope that in doing so, I created a smooth flow throughout. I spent some time introducing what I learned so that I could build up my whole piece and in the end tie everything back around to the beginning statements. I did as much as possible to not just bluntly say what I learned from this experience but there are some places where that was challenging. Thank you for taking the time to read my paper!

 

The Day Soccer Became More Than Just A Game

There comes a time in your life when you need to grow up and accept the consequences of your actions. As kids, we often just live out our lives, relying on our parents to cover for us, not really thinking anything through. We experience situations that are merely just another blink of an eye, but then when we are left to our own devices, lacking parental guidance, we are thrown to face to face the real test. We don’t realize the size of impact our parents truly leave on us until they aren’t there to help us anymore. Sometime life lets you ease into these moments, however, more often than not, we are completely thrust into them without any warning. Unfortunately I learned the hard way.

The day seemed like any other. Perfect conditions for a friendly soccer game in the backyard with my sisters. The sun shone bright, a calm gentle breeze blew through the trees. With spring just beginning the grass shimmered a vibrant green. It was early enough in the year that none of us worried about fighting off those pesky bugs. Our backyard provided us with plenty of room to roam, but we faced limitations with fencing around each end. On one side- a chain link fence, the other side- a privacy fence, and all along the back- a rickety old fence that needed replacing but somehow stood it’s ground for just a little while longer. In the corner of the yard, stood a half-alive evergreen and in the other, a swing set. An oak tree stood its ground, in front of the swing set, nearly in the middle of the yard, providing us a full cover of shade.

As events worked themselves out, Jordan and I played on the same team since Addi reigned supreme as the soccer all-star. Our goal was between the tree in front of the swing-set, all the way to the rickety old fence. Addi’s goal was one chain linked pole to another. Stakes proved high, the game all tied up at 2-2, Jordan and I only needed a single score to pull ahead.

At this point all of us felt the effects of exhaustion. Even though perfect conditions covered us, the game continued on for what seemed like forever. With the expertise of just a few months of soccer training under her belt, Jordan glides across the backyard, dribbling skills in full display. Addi coming in full force to try and defend her.

Early in the day, Jordan started to figure out how to maneuver around her, that’s how we scored our other two goals. I pranced about, trying to find an open spot in the yard for her to pass to me. This wasn’t exactly the hardest thing in the world since just the three of us played.

I felt obligated to push harder now, since Jordan scored both of our goals, I needed to step it up and be a part of the team. Jordan catches my eye and brings her leg back to kick the ball across the yard. Her leg swings through and up the ball soars. And soars. And soars. And soars. It’s gone. Her kick cleared far beyond my own reach and headed for the fence. All of us stopped in shock, our panic suspended us from taking any further action. We knew what was going to happen and none of us liked the outcome. Over the ball soars, into the unknown. Our game of soccer, cut short by an unfortunate series of just one event.

This wasn’t the first time that something like this happened to us. In years past, when all of our soccer skills were undeveloped, the ball practically lived on the opposite side of the fence. We didn’t know our own strength and couldn’t control the patterns in which our feet moved. Once again we sat, stuck in a sticky situation. What is our next move, how will we ever play soccer with out a ball? We stood there pouring into each other with complete blank stares. All of us knew what needed to happen next, but no one wanted to say it out loud. The fear of walking around the block, to the house behind ours, sunk deep inside us. None of us wanted to make the uncomfortable journey. At the same time, one of us needed to brave it out if there was to ever be another Ernstmeyer soccer game. As the oldest, I knew the responsibility would fall on my shoulders.

The three of us stood there bickering for a moment. All of us knew how to hold our own so after weighing all our different options we ended with the conclusion that we preferred asking dad to retrieve the ball for us. In years past, he was our default. Always bailing us out, we knew we could count on him to save us. Marching inside so boldly, our words exactly planned out. Nothing wrong could happen now, we steered clear of the trek around the block. We focused entirely too much on our vision of success that we forgot about facing failure. We prepared more that just words to convince our dad to help us out, only to immediately be shot down. It was our turn now, we were old enough to fix the trouble that we caused. At least, that’s what dad thought. None of us agreed. So back to ground zero we fell.

The three of us moved back where we started, in the yard, arguing about who wouldretrieve the ball. In the end, my suspicions proved right. I, the oldest, “the chosen one” needed to retrieve the ball. My heart dropped when I actually hear them say it, even though I prepared for it the whole time. I would now take what seemed like the longest walk in all of history around the block. Along the way I would plan out what to say to those who lived behind us.

I made my sisters walk with me because in the end I would stand on my own, but for now I could drag them along with me. Each step seemed longer and heavier than the last. This was not what I planned on spending my day doing. These nerves, unneeded. I dreaded the walk up my neighbors driveway the whole entire walk around the block and that flew by faster than I thought. My mind, too preoccupied with the task ahead of me neglected paying attention to how fast my feet were taking me.

Seeing the front door brought me panic. I would actually have to talk to people, make conversation, and risk laying myself on the line. My palms start sweating as I reach for the doorbell. My heart drops even further into my stomach as I hear the dinging through the house walls. I still have no idea what to say. I hear a dog bark and footsteps approaching. Something would have to come out of my mouth. My sisters stood back on the driveway, I was all on my own. I frantically search for words as someone fumbles with the locks on the door. I take one last deep breath before the door creaks open. I now face what what I’ve dreaded the whole walk over.

Greeted with a pleasant smile, a friendly, middle aged women opened the door. She didn’t seem to act the least bit scary, which left me at ease for the moment. I scrounge up enough English to ask her for our soccer ball back. All of my fear rising back to the surface. I feel my heart pounding in the silence between my question and her answer. I hear the clock on the wall behind her: tick, tick, tick. Time seems to stand still as I await her response. Finally, an answer reaches my ears. She tells me to come on in and head to the backyard. I follow, without a string of doubt. I made my way this far, there was no stopping now. She leads me to the backyard. We walk through a homey living room and a kitchen full of delicious smelling food. For a brief minute I feel a little at home and realize I had nothing to fear coming to ask for the ball back on my own.

We continue walking through the intricately decorated house and I admire all the little details she put in, like the paintings on the wall and the objects on the shelves. Their backyard personifies a replica of our own, with three surrounding fences, lots of open space, an evergreen tree in the corner, and another tall oak tree somewhat in the middle. I quickly locate the ball and grab it. I thank her as I walk out, she says to just stop on by next time a ball flies over the fence. For now, I was relieved the experience finally came to an end. We had a game of soccer to finish.

Walking back around the block I had time to reflect on the events of the day. Turns out, I had nothing to fear the whole walk over. Our neighbors were completely understanding of the situation. I faced my fear, only to realize this fear shouldn’t have existed at all. In the upcoming year of soccer games in the backyard, I learned how to deal with the situations that fall just a few steps outside of my comfort zone. Little did I know that this was just the beginning of many uncomfortable situations life throws my way.

 

 

Journal Author’s Note

At this point in my writing, I feel like I have a well structured article with a balance of quotes and true writing. I worked a lot on the order of content because for a while it was just going in circles. I took time to add in some conversations that relate to what was happening in the story being reported on to make sure there was more of a news feel. In adding that and some different word choice here and there, I felt like it became more of a real article. Thank you for taking the time to read through my piece!

 

“Normal Life” In the Community of 86th Street

Kayla Ernstmeyer

One man can have an impact on an entire community, it just takes them leaving for someone to realize it. Mr. Marv had been a part of the community on 86th street for as long as anyone around could remember. Always greeting the neighborhood with a simple wave and a pleasant smile, everyone took him for granted. When things took a turn for the worse, no one expected he would let it affect him. Marv was moving up to the later years in his life and, as it does for most people, that meant he experienced more health problems day in and day out.

Marv had been living in Lincoln, sharing a house with Miss Karen. It was a bit of an unknown situation, in asking around the neighborhood no one completely knew the details. However, she cared for him and provided him with the company that he needed to get along. In return, he gave her just as much company.

Both of them being older single adults, that bond was something positive to look forward to, especially  when unwinding at the end of a long day at work.

The two of them seemed to be the perfect team, each having their own tasks they would finish around the house or the yard. Neither ever complained, just worked and lived together like a pair of puzzle pieces.

In their time together they made some pocket money combining hobbies they both loved. Marv had a knack for woodworking, making flowers and other shapes so people could have a bit of decoration for their yards. After the technical building was done, Karen would get the chance to put her own spin on it. She would make each and every piece come alive with vibrant colors and creative pattens for someone to display in their yard.

“I spend most Saturday mornings at the Farmer’s Market and it brings a smile to my face on the days they’re there selling a few pieces” says neighbor Julie.

With time passing by, life seemed to flow perfectly and they tried to ignore the fact that things were indeed going to change. However, the day came when both knew they must go their separate ways. On October 17th 2014, his big silver truck was pulled out of the drive one last time. Marv was requiring more and more health support and Karen could no longer keep up with all of his needs. It was time for the family in South Carolina to take over.

Family members had been keeping in contact over the course of the summer and set up a plan to move Marv to a more suitable environment according to his health needs.

“We just feel as if he needs to be put in the best environment to keep him as healthy as possible. Right now that is at home in South Carolina with a family that loves him, not to mention with a bit tamer climate than Nebraska” says younger sister Jane.

A plan formed to move him from city of Lincoln, all the way across the states to a place he called home, good ol’ South Carolina, where he could receive some higher end care while living in comfortable conditions.

“Right now, I’m just trying to keep in mind what is best for him as his health is declining. I’ll miss his wonderful company, but I know he’ll be in a much better place” says Miss Karen.

The community all around the neighborhood came together in the days following. People gave words of encouragement to both Marv and Karen, Those across the neighborhood all felt Marv’s presence in their lives and now they wanted to make sure he felt theirs.

All of them wanted to make sure that he knew how much of an impact he made on their lives so almost everyone brought forth some kind of going away gift for him to leave with.

“In the evenings when I would be outside enjoying the weather, Marv and Karen would stroll by on their evening walks and would always stop to chat. These conversations, some longer than others, helped me feel more connected with this neighborhood. I am hoping to still have these same conversations with Karen after Marv leaves, but it won’t completely ever be the same again” says neighbor Bethany.

As stated earlier, he always met the world with a simple wave and a pleasant smile. Whether it was just pulling into the drive or walking to get the mail, he made

sure that everyone else’s lives received a little bit of sunshine.

Talking to everyone in the neighborhood really showed how tightly wound the community is here. It was all too obvious the impact he had made.

In speaking with Sara, another resident in the neighborhood, she states that he “Gave me a sense of comfort when seeing him outside. He’s just one of those people who is a part of your life and not seeing him everyday is going to be a huge adjustment.”

Today, life goes on in the 86th street community. Life is ‘normal’ if you can even call it that. Everyone learned through Marv moving away that there are going to be people in your life that are either there for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. Sometimes you’ll want them to stay longer but that isn’t always the way it works out.

Mr. Marv impacted each person differently- he was there for a season for some, others a reason, and even others a lifetime. Even though he may no longer be a part of everyday life in the neighborhood, the memory of him flourishes.