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 * __Story 1__**

First true love!!! By:Michael True love is a hard thing to understand yet alone find and feel. To understand sometimes you get hurt, sometimes you just have to forget about it, but once you find true love, you know you two where ment to be, for example to somepeople true love is somebody that can:

· Hold a conversation for more then 10 mins. without losing interest in what the pther is talking about. · Comfortably talk to you about anything. · Make you feel safe, protected, like nothing can hurt you at all. (And when you have that feeling you'll never want it tooken away from you.) · Be willing to stand-up and stick up for what you and/or the other believes in and/or feels. · Be willing to take care of the other at any cost. · Be there for you no matter how far away they are. · Just be theyselfs and treat the other with respect and just have a good time with each other.

For those who know me good, they know what I went through to find true love.......and for the others if you want to know, I'll tell you so just sit back and listen, some might understand and others that don't understand they will eventually, it just came early with me.

One summer day I was hanging out with some of my friends just being reckless and alittle mischevious, but it just so happened that there was this one girl that kept watching us, so I thought to myself..."Just act cool and show-off some." Some how it worked so I ended up asking her out right before she had to go home that night so she gave me her phone number and told me to come by tomarrow, so my friends and I went home and went to bed.

The next day I went back over to her house and day after day after day I'd talk with her family and get to know them real good so I was pretty much warming up to them, and the weird part was my girlfriends cousin ended up liking me as well but I was tooken already so I didn't want to be an ass and go behind her back and go out with her cousin. ADOPTING OUR CHILDREN After nine years of marriage and learning through medical tests, including a testicular biopsy which showed very few living sperm, we finally accepted the fact that we would not be able to be birth parents. We began to seriously think about the process of adoption. While playing bridge with a lady from our neighborhood I learned that she and her husband had adopted their little boy. He was so precious and they were an ideal family. Through this lady I obtained the name of the adoption agency that worked with them. We contacted this adoption agency and went through their process of being screened as a possible family to adopt one of their babies. This was a very stressful time because we worried that we might not be accepted but our case worker was a lovely and kind lady and gave us much encouragement. We had to write a letter stating why we wanted to adopt and go through many interviews and home inspections. Our choice was to adopt a healthy baby of either sex.

Within seven months of applying, we received a phone call telling us that a baby girl was available and could we come to the adoption agency for a meeting to learn more about the baby girl. After this meeting, we had an appointment to see the baby and make our decision if this was the baby we wanted to bring home. We were so excited and on pins and needles wondering what she would look like. This baby was of Italian decent and I pictured a baby with dark hair. When we saw our daughter she was very blond and had hardly any hair, all of which was very blond. Of course we loved her at first sight and so did all our family and neighbors.

We brought her to her new home and we all started our life with her in our family. After bringing her home, we had to wait for six months before we could go before a judge in a courtroom and have him approve the adoption. This was the last step for us to legally become the parents of our daughter. During this time, the adoption agency came to our home to inspect the care we were giving our baby

The adoption agency we worked with allowed the birth mother a minimum of three days to legally sign her baby over to the agency. We, as adoptive parents, were not allowed any personal information about the birth parents: names, addresses, etc. This information is on file and can only be accessed by means of a court order. We legally adopted our baby from the agency after the six month waiting period.

About two years later we again contacted the same adoption agency to request a baby boy to complete our family. The process was very much the same and within seven months there was a baby boy for us to consider for adoption. We were not as anxious this time about being accepted but, we could hardly wait to see what our baby boy would look like

. When we first held him there was lots of baby powder which smelled so good. The agency did a great job of presenting their babies to the prospective parents.

We have always talked about our children being adopted and at an early age we read them the book “The Chosen Baby”. It is a story about a family very much like ours that adopted a baby. Our love and feelings for our children is the same as it would be if they were born to us naturally and this is all part of Gods plan.

Every second of everyday I spent with my girlfriend, we had gone out for almost a year now, then one day she told me she wasn't gonna be home and not to stop by so I said ok so I hung out with my friend Alex and Jeremy, we just skateboarded and just messed around until late night like around midnight or one o'clock in the morning.

Well on the way back I was gonna pass by my girlfriends house because it was right down the street where I lived. Before I could even get around the corner I saw and and I stopped because I saw her with another guy that I didn't know, I knew it wasn't a relative because I met her whole family. So I just waited in the front of her house and just watched to see what happens.

A few moments went by and one thing led to another and then they started making-out, I was getting really mad, my friend Jeremy had to hold me back from running over there and kicking that guys ass. Then all of a sudden I see my girlfriends cousin in the window staring at me, it scared me because I didn't realize she was there. But then she opened the window and saw I was mad about something, then my best-friend Alex told her to lean out of the window some more and look.

So she did and then really quick she goes back inside the window and she looks worried, well then I asked what the hell was going on? She started to answer but all that came out was......um......, then she started weeping and said sorry for not telling me earlier. Ok here I am wondering what the hell is going on and the she tells me my so called "girlfriend" had been cheating on me for the past eight months. Then she started crying saying sorry and all that I told her it was ok, it wasn't her fault and I gave her a hug and said thanks for telling me, and then I sat down on a landscaping rock in the front of <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent ! important; border: medium none ! important; display: inline-block ! important; float: none ! important; font-weight: bold ! important; height: auto ! important; margin: 0px ! important; min-height: 0px ! important; min-width: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important; text-decoration: underline ! important; text-indent: 0px ! important; text-transform: uppercase ! important; vertical-align: baseline ! important; width: auto ! important;">, and thats when my face and fingers went all numb.

Alex and Jeremy kept trying to cheer me up but it wasn't working, they both knew what was gonna happen next, but before they could do something I was already running straight at the guy, when I got there I grabbed him and threw him to the ground and started beating him up. Then my girlfriend pushes me and says stop it.

So I do, and she asks me why am I doing this? And there I am, wondering whats going on with this girls head...."Why am I doing this?" I say with a loud voice, and I just lose it, I told her I never want to see her again and to never ever talk to me ever again and then I just start walking down the road not paying attention to where I'm going at that point I didn't care and I just wanted to think.

When I did stop I was at the dirt hills, so I climbed to the top and just laid down stared at the sky and wondered why did she do that, I opened myself up to her and I trusted her with everything, then I realized I had fallen in love with her and I was now another person with a broken heart. Then I just closed my eyes and accidentally fell asleep ( probally because I was crying).

When I woke up I went home and took a shower skipped dinner and just slept for a few days. Then my friends Alex, Jeremy, and Sabrina litterally had to drag me out of bed and had to get me skateboarding again becasue thats one of the only things that calm me down when I'm mad. If it wasn't for them I would've never had skateboarded again. Then I told myself I was never gonna open myself up to another person ever again, So I'd never have to go through that pain ever again.

Ok now that I have told you the story about how I learned about the meaning of love doesn't mean its the same for everybody, sometimes they don't learn it until later on in they're lives and sometimes people need something tragic to happen to understand the meaning.

But that also doesn't mean theres no hope or seconnd chances for people. Some people find true love first time and it stays true the rest of they're lives. Sometimes people that have experienced love for another but something happened and everything went wrong blame it on thereselves. They think they should never try again (like I said in the story I told you), but they should because there are others out there that fell the same way and that could possibly be your first true love.

Ok if you don't believe me then let me tell your about my present day relationship, my second chance at love, and to me is my True Love.

Ok well one day I had met this beautiful girl, well of course she had a boyfriend what I didn't realize was it was my friends girlfriend. But even though she was my friends girlfriend me and her got to know eachother really good after her and my friend started having some problems. ( I'm not entitles to tell you because I promised I wouldn't tell a soul.).....well anyways she needed somebody to talk to and I was there at the time so I talked to her. I ended up talking to her or 7 or 8 hours. Well when she had to go she asked me if she'd see me tomarrow and I told her yes she would, then she said good night. When I was trying to go to sleep I couldn't I kept thiking about her and I couldn't get her out of my head, thats when I realized I was begining to like her more then a friend.

Well the next day I ended up talking to her from the time I wake up until the time I went to bed, the more I learned about her the more I wanted to be with her, then about after a week or two, I wanted to tell her I liked her but I didn't know how to tell her so one day I asked her if she wanted to play 20 questions to find out who we both liked.

She said shure so we started asking details and all that, then at the end we found out we both liked each other. I asked her if I could ask her out she said no wait a little bot longer so I did. About amonth later I asked her and she said yes. Well as time went on I began to realize I was falling in love with her deeply, deeply in love.

I realized then that she could most likely be my first true love. And the way I feel for her is unable to be put into words. It's amazing and I wouldn't want anything to happen to it becase then I wouldn't be able to live, when I talk to her and hear her laugh it makes me feel good inside and to me thats true love.

Even though it feels like true love to me doesn't mean its that way with everybody, everybody has they're own way of expressing it and that. But all I can say is I'm happier then I have ever been in my whole life.


 * __Story 2__**

First Heartbreak humidifier Lying on her bed, clutching her legs to her chest she tried to forget. To forget the way he pushed her down and thrusts her wrists above her head. The way he ran his hand so gently over her stomach, smiled sweetly and told her he loved her. She tried to forget the way she squirmed and cried and pleaded with him to stop. And she tried to forget the way he punched her stomach and told her she deserved it, the way he reached down, caressing her hips. and how she tried to scream though he just hit her again and put his hand over her mouth. With tears streaming down her cheeks she felt suffocated, trying to avoid his touch she pulled herself as close to the bed as she could, drawing her stomach in towards her spine. But he paid no attention to her stifled screams and using one hand to hold her wrists he sat astride her, she could barley move and when he moved his hand from her mouth, she was too afraid to cry. He smiled at her and told her how beautiful she looked as he started to undo the buttons on her top, once it was undone he sat there for a minute, watching her before running his tongue across her chest. It was surprising how gentle he was being considering he was using so much force to keep her pinned down, that quickly changed. For a short moment, he loosened his grip but the instant she tried to move his fist laid more bruises on her aching body. 'whats wrong babe? You love me, you want me, I'm doing what's best...i love you' she opened her mouth to speak but was cut off with a sharp blow 'don't cut me off you whore..I was fucking talking'. With this he reached down, much more aggressive than before, undoing the flies on his jeans, and pulling off her underwear. For a while she was too stunned by the pain to realise what was going on, but whilst watching the blood trickle down past her eye, trying to concentrate on staying conscious she suddenly realised. There was a sharp stab of pain as he thrust himself inside her fragile body, this wasn't how it was supposed to be. This wasn't the perfect scenario she'd wanted to wait for. For 20 minutes the pain got worse, it slightly numbed but he got more and more aggressive, more and more frantic with the way he pushed his body against hers. The tears kept rolling, the blood kept on flowing, the thoughts kept on drowning her until he felt he had complete control, 'I love you' he whispered, pulling away from her, kissing her forehead and zipping up his flies. With that he turned around, walked out the door and left her to coil up, try to forget and cry herself to sleep.The sun was shining brightly through her window on the Monday morning, it had warmed the bed she was still lying in. she woke up, still clutching her knees to her chest, lying on a blood soaked sheet. Aching and sore she tried to sit up; the pain in her stomach was almost unbearable. She sat for a few moments, her legs dangling over the edge of the bed. Trying to focus around her she was momentarily blinded by the sun, then she managed to gain some perspective of where she was and stumbled over to the mirror. Her face was badly bruised, she had a large cut over her eyebrow that ran just past her bloodshot eye, and her lip was split. Feeling her way along the landing wall she made her way to the bathroom, where she ran a warm bath. Getting in her whole body ached, the water stung like a bitch as it seeped through her open wounds, within seconds the water had turned from crystal clear to murky brown. Gradually her sight began to clear and she saw that her wrists, and inner thighs were badly bruised, the rest of her body wasn't in much better shape, with cuts and bruises scattered in a delicate pattern over it, there was a large graze over her chest and stomach and there was puss seeping from her knee. As she looked over the bathroom walls, which she could now see were covered in her bloody handprints, all she could think was how mad her dad would be she had made such a mess and how her mum was going to moan at her for looking so dreadful. Luckily though, her parents were expected home after she had gone to school. Having spent an hour in the bath, scrubbing her beaten body until it was raw she still felt dirty, no amount of soapy water could take away what happened, no amount of washing could take away the shame she felt. She glanced over to the clock radio, 7:31 she had roughly 45 minutes to get dressed and pack her books for school before going off to meet Hailey. Holding herself up on the rail next to the bath she pulled herself out the water and onto the floor, she felt too tired to stand up and was unsteady on her feet, she felt feint and sick but reached for the nearest towel and slowly walked towards her <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent ! important; border: medium none ! important; display: inline-block ! important; float: none ! important; font-weight: bold ! important; height: auto ! important; margin: 0px ! important; min-height: 0px ! important; min-width: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important; text-decoration: underline ! important; text-indent: 0px ! important; text-transform: uppercase ! important; vertical-align: baseline ! important; width: auto ! important;">. She walked back along the landing, tracing her fingers over the marks she left before, all she could think was how stupid she had been, letting him do that to her, she'd had the chance to scream and ignored it, she'd had the chance to fight but didn't try. Opening the door to her <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent ! important; border: medium none ! important; display: inline-block ! important; float: none ! important; font-weight: bold ! important; height: auto ! important; margin: 0px ! important; min-height: 0px ! important; min-width: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important; text-decoration: underline ! important; text-indent: 0px ! important; text-transform: uppercase ! important; vertical-align: baseline ! important; width: auto ! important;"> she felt nauseous, she recalled the way she had taken him through that door so many times, holding his hand and laughing with him, having fun with the boy she loved. How the first time she'd taken him in he'd sat on her bed, picked up her teddy and moved the fur from round its eyes so 'he could see how beautiful she was'. Swallowing hard, she opened her wardrobe doors and pulled out the familiar blue and black uniform, held it close to her and moved towards her bed where she sat down and leaned against one of the four posts. Swallowing again she dropped her towel and gasped as she caught another glimpse of her mutilated body, slipping her underwear on she wondered how she would explain the unmissable abrasions on her face. Stepping into her trousers she started to feel ill again, the touch of something on her <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent ! important; border: medium none ! important; display: inline-block ! important; float: none ! important; font-weight: bold ! important; height: auto ! important; margin: 0px ! important; min-height: 0px ! important; min-width: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important; text-decoration: underline ! important; text-indent: 0px ! important; text-transform: uppercase ! important; vertical-align: baseline ! important; width: auto ! important;"> made her feel helpless and she wished she could curl up and hide again. Putting on her sweatshirt was the worst bit, she felt like she was being suffocated, how she had felt last night when he pressed his heavy body to hers. Telling herself it was ok she concentrated on breathing steadily. Shakily she picked up her bag and walked down the stairs. Stopping briefly at the hall table to pick up the key she caught another look at herself in the mirror. She still didn't know how to explain herself to people; there was no way she was telling them the truth of what happened. It wasn't Tom's fault he had to do it, if she had said yes in the first place he wouldn't have had to force her. She didn't want every one in school to know how pathetic she was for getting so upset over something so trivial, something that happens so often. Telling herself to make up a story on the way to school, she pulled the door to behind her and twisted the key in the lock. Taking a deep breath in, and wiping the sweat from her forehead, she prepared herself for school and walked down the road.


 * __Story 3__**

Throughout the years I have found that my family and upbringing have had a great impact on me. They have influenced my beliefs, actions, motivations and, ultimately, molded my personality. Upon greater self reflection I feel that I can accurately identify the life experiences that have produced my style of leadership, the driving factors behind my motivation, the attitudes that I possess, and the factors that have led to my transformation as a human being. One major force that has shaped my life is the fact that for the first eight years of my life I grew up in Iran. Throughout my childhood, my family and I were in the religious minority in Iran. Being in the minority, I encountered overt discrimination in and out of school. The core curriculum in all of Iran’s schools consists of a class on religion, where every child must spend an hour a day studying the Koran. My parents were forced to enroll me in a specific school in Teheran that provided the opportunity to study other religions. There I felt quite isolated from the other students. I did not share the beliefs, experiences or morality of the majority. I felt that the teachers treated me differently and that the quality of education that I received was not up to par. It is for this reason that to this day, I am extremely sensitive towards the needs of those who are in the minority. Additionally, as a result of this, my parents decided to move to California. I truly believe that by moving to this country my life took a drastic turn. If anyone were to ever ask my parents why they left Iran they would automatically respond by stating that it was for their children. My parents, particularly my father, have always emphasized the need for education, hard work and dedication. My father’s focus was always on providing me with the opportunity for a better life. He saw that access to this opportunity lay in education. It is for this reason that the primary focus in our household was on education and the ability to make right choices. Based on this, I find that to this day I am an extremely focused person. The ultimate goal is my motivation, I am rarely satisfied with keeping things at the status quo level and I always want to accomplish more. Depending on the situation, I can also be very patient and tenacious. In coming to a new country I was forced to acclimate to a new language and culture. By focusing on my education, and by having the ability to choose, I feel that I have succeeded in life. If I were to have grown up in Iran I highly doubt that I would be in the same person that I am today.

__**Story 4**__

There are people who dream, people who follow their dream, and people who give up on their dream. I dreamt once and it was beautiful. But all that seem very far away now. Like a dream. It’s funny. That word “dream.” The nature of the very word suggests its own demise. But we believe it anyway. There was a time that I believed and that is how I know now what it is like to not believe. I grew up and this is what I learned, what I finally woke up to.

“Didn’t you ever notice that movies always end in happy, sappy, cliché endings?” Gray asked me once.

“Of course, but I like it. People go to movies to have their dreams affirm.” I gaily replied.

He looked at me dubiously, “It’s just an escape, an illusion. In real life, people’s lives fizzle out and go stale.”

“I don’t know. I’d like to think that it’s not.”

That was me three years ago. Just three years. It doesn’t seem all that long, but it feels like a life time.

Sometimes I can’t seem to see beyond a foggy day, I can’t remember anymore what it’s like when it is not like this. Sometimes I believe the sunny days are just illusions, figments of that cruel thing called hope. No, but I do remember what it was like. That is how life is. You remember the things you want to forget and you forget the things you want to remember. I can’t stop mourning over the grave of my past; and my damned memories, they keep haunting me, taunting me with old wishes and old hopes. Do you remember what it was like to feel safe? Do you remember how everything moved you and filled you with a tingling sensation of happiness? Oh yes, happiness. Do you remember what it was like to fall in love? What it was like to melt into another’s flesh? Do you remember how a name, just a name, can tear you to pieces and put you back together anew? I am to pieces now and nothing to put me back anew. What’s the reason to put salt on my wounds? I cannot forgive if I cannot forget. I shall never, never, never forgive the world for this.

I bit my lip hard to stop the tears from flowing and tried to focus on something else. I could feel the cold, damp earth beneath my arms and neck. Above, the leaves rustle as the wind blows. The sweet greenness wavers against a deep gray sky. A few tiny yellow stars drift slowly down to my face. I close my eyes against the bitter swelling of regrets, acquiescing to the reverie of something once lost. Everything seems so quiet, and those leaves, they keep drifting down and down. I could hear a voice far away and feel a light breathing next to my face. A soft arm was under my neck. The voice became clearer. They’re soft whispers, those murmurs of promises of a life forever in happiness.

“We will be happy, I swear,” he murmured, “the happiest couple in this world.”

“And you will love me still when I grow old and ugly?” I asked.

“Of course, I’d love you more.”

I giggled at that. I wanted to run away with him, away from all of the world. But could we make it? Could we really make it?

Breaking a peaceful silence, I asked, “What are we going to do when I have to leave?”

“I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

“I want to break up with Gray. God, our relationship is like a tortured monster that needs to be put out of its misery. I think its end was long overdue.”

“Why did you stay with him for so long anyways?”

“I don’t know. I think I was afraid.”

“To be alone,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, something like that.”

He gave a thoughtful smile. I always melted when I see him smile that smile of his. “I love you,” I blurted out and immediately realized my error as I quickly covered my mouth in embarrassment. When I see his smile, I seemed to lose all ability to function and I say things without thinking, especially things I felt but I did not want him to know yet. We barely knew each other so the I love you’s always seemed so out of place; and yet they were the only appropriate words we knew for the excitement we felt.

The days we spent together that summer were always in that giddy, dazzling excitement. We were like too drunks who did not know where we were going and did not care as long as it was together.I felt then that all my dreams had come true. It was the one thing I prayed for since girlhood. I wanted to fall in love and love came at last.

When summer ended and the university resumed, I had to return to school, which was, five hundred miles away from him. Our goodbye, nevertheless, was hopeful. We read Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet together on our last night, reciting the secret promise of our re-union. Several days after school began, I callously broke up with Gray and threw out our two year relationship as if it was yesterday’s news. I didn’t even feel pity, pain, or remorse. All I could see in front of me was love and the past didn't matter. I was so taken by him, so madly in love, so lost of all control. I took no caution because it was love, it was the thing everybody wanted, the thing that was ultimate happiness.

Yet, despite our happiness, the days of fighting came. Those were the days when I felt the most agonizing pain of my life. The I love you’s that once bursted out of me as if overflowing from an overfilled reservoir of affection now became distressing cries of desperation. They were saying, please, please, let this be real, let this be something that lasts. If love fails what else is there for me to believe? Oh God, please. But the heaven was silent and so was he. That was the way he hurt me. That was his weapon of choice. He would turn his body away from mine, recoiling from my touch and my apologies. He turned deaf and mute. And after several attempts at begging and soothing, I would finally give up and carried my pent up rage elsewhere alone. My preferred hiding place, one that I <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent ! important; border: medium none ! important; display: inline-block ! important; float: none ! important; font-weight: bold ! important; height: auto ! important; margin: 0px ! important; min-height: 0px ! important; min-width: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important; text-decoration: underline ! important; text-indent: 0px ! important; text-transform: uppercase ! important; vertical-align: baseline ! important; width: auto ! important;"> since childhood, was the bathroom. It’s where, suddenly, I could let it all out, let my feelings burst out of its protective shell. I sat on that cold floor and leaned my head on the hard door. There tears well up and flow down my cheeks. I felt a sharp pain in my chest, tingling down all the nerves of my body as it shudders uncontrollably. Oh how I hate the world for its trick, its cheap, cheap trick! And so this was love. So this was what it was all about.

We were a world torn asunder. We were the loneliest creatures to ever crawl the earth. And yet we tried to survive it all. We hug and made up and carried on like it was something small, something insignificant and can be fixed. We cling on to our dreams with all our strength, "boat against the current." In life it seems nothing is for certain, nothing true or real. There is only faith in our dreams. I've met many people who do not believe and their lives are full of fear and bitterness because they cannot feel. They cling on to logic as if the mind can solve all problems, unfurl all truths, banish all feelings. But logic too is only a figment of the imagination. I choose a life more complicated and more painful because I believe some dreams do come true and even if mine doesn't, all the struggles to obtain it are still worth it.

__**Story 5**__

My life changed when I found my Yang. Well, the truth of the matter is that the above statement would be absolutely true if I had truly and completely found my Yang. In actuality Yang made effort to find me right about the same time I was discovering Yang. Yang first came to me in one of my day dreams in the form of a girl. To be more accurate I believe Yang has been with me all my life in one shape and another, but I am talking about the first time I really began to realize Yang existed. Looking back now, I can see that Yang has been right alongside me all my life, and ironically enough I’m convinced that Yang was just as clueless about me as I was about Yang.

When I was a child Yang would often visit me as my pet cat and I would spend long hours admiring Yang’s soft fur, her long tail, her sometimes slit-like eyes, her sharp teeth, and just about everything that I figured Yang represented. In fact Yang and I had a very symbiotic and respectable relationship; I would play with her for fun or pet her until her eyes rolled back into submission, and she would provide me with company. Some days I would completely lose myself to Yang and imagine that I was Yang, I would chase birds or butterflies or anything that distracted me from my other priorities and I would lay on the warm carpet in front of a window so that the sliver of sunlight shone in just right and warmed my mid-day nap, and then I would wake up and wonder if Yang was off somewhere dreaming she was something else.

And then there was a squirrel who spoke to me and with a flick of its tail gave me grand, inspirational, and world moving advice without so much as a glance in my direction. But I knew the squirrel was there, some hundred feet ahead of where I sat, and I guessed that Yang knew I was there too. In the square where I sat on the edge of a concrete wall there were cement paths followed by little squares of green grass with one tree placed in the center of each patch and then there was Yang scurrying around and stopping and <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent ! important; border: medium none ! important; display: inline-block ! important; float: none ! important; font-weight: bold ! important; height: auto ! important; margin: 0px ! important; min-height: 0px ! important; min-width: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important; text-decoration: underline ! important; text-indent: 0px ! important; text-transform: uppercase ! important; vertical-align: baseline ! important; width: auto ! important;"> and chewing and looking like it was at peace with the universe yet somehow very antiquated sitting on the clean cut nicely edged tuft of grass with busy feet scurrying all around on their squares of concrete on each of the four sides of Yang’s little place.

Yang found itself in my hand one day as I gathered up a smooth rock to skip across a couple meters of my side of a lake well into the afternoon when the sky was beginning to turn, and in turn the lake decided that sky looking down should be just as lucky as us looking up and shone the brilliance straight upward. I suppose I would still be wondering if it wasn’t the other way around if I hadn’t had found Yang and decided to give it a good spin towards the water. After all what good was Yang in my hand for more than a moment if that’s all it took to take up Yang’s smoothness and roundness and cool hard feel into my memory and thoughts. So I chucked Yang back and the lake laughed which made the sky turn darker. But the lake and the sky shared their relationship on into the night tossing stars back and forth and I watched them glimmer in the darkness until I couldn’t remember which side was up or down.

But what I meant to recall was the first time that I realized I had actually met Yang. It was the first thing I noticed, she was everything I wasn’t. And I suppose the physicality of the whole thing helped to make it rather obvious, but I really mean everything. Now, Yang made me think quite a bit, not that she asked me to think or that there wasn’t any way around it, I suppose it was more of a curiosity than anything else. So there Yang was and I was baffled by the meaning of it all. I don’t even know why I thought there was some meaning, but it sounded good. So I kept gathering these ideas and throwing them into a jar and one day the jar got all mixed up, I forgot if I fell down a flight of stairs or if I was doing some jumping jacks, but whatever the case the jar ended up on the ground in front of me broken to bits, which didn’t even occur to me at the time because my ideas were all lined up. Funny enough Yang and I had left each others’ lives long before, but I bet she’d be glad to know there was a smile planted on my face the rest of that day.

I sometimes wonder if I knew that Yang was there when I was barely crawling and peering around with delight for the first times in my life that it actually mattered to me. I imagine that in those purely abstract days I might have had more inclination than I’ve had before.

I often forget Yang is with me at all times, and when I do remember it’s sometimes tough to decipher how real Yang really is or how much of Yang is just a meme that had become planted in my head. But when I believe in Yang I know Yang believes in me and discovering that is always as exciting as it was the first time.

__**Story 6**__

By Jennifer Kays
 * Mi Vida Nueva**

The summer after my Junior year of college I participated in an Education Abroad program in Morelia, Mexico. I had taken four years of Spanish in high school and had taken a "refresher" class the summer prior to my trip. Even with all of my schooling, speaking Spanish 24x7 was a scary thought. More than that, I had never lived more than an hour from my parents and Mexico was definitely beyond that! It took me three years to gather the courage to apply for the program, but I knew it was the only way to obtain my goal of fluency.

When I arrived in Morelia I met the other American students enrolled in the program and was assigned to a local family. My Mexican family consisted of a mother, daughter, and son. They were very kind and patient with me as my language skills improved. I attended four classes, four days a week, for three months. Classes included Mexican history, Mexican literature, Mexican culture, and grammar. The professors spoke only Spanish and we wrote three essays a week! One professor had a deep bellowing voice that echoed off the classroom walls. He also spoke at a very quick pace. In the first weeks of school I had trouble understanding this teacher in particular. The program was incredibly challenging and rewarding at the same time.

By the end of the program I had become fluent in Spanish and could even understand my bellowing professor. I had become very close with my Mexican family and had made some lasting friendships. One of my biggest gains was an increased self-confidence. I now know that I can accomplish my dreams //on my own//.


 * __Story 7__**

At 10:29pm on June 7, 1987, an event occurred, which at the time, I could not begin to realize how profoundly my life would change. In fact, I am still learning how much the birth of my daughter continues to alter and affect my life. It was with great anticipation and desire that I awaited the birth of my daughter. I did not know the sex prior to her birth and I remember how excited I was to finally find out whether I would have a son or a daughter. Simply the sex of your child created a great deal of change and anticipation. I believe even though we want the best for our children, we do treat boys and girls differently. For me, one such profound and memorable life altering moment, which is etched in my mind, occurred with my daughter in of all places the grocery store. Perhaps, if I had had a son, this life altering moment may not have occurred but because I had a daughter id did. Natalie and I were waiting in a rather disorganized line at the deli counter. She was almost four weeks old and I was just starting to take her out with me or errands and what not. We had been waiting for about ten minutes and we were the next people in line. I noticed two elderly women walk up to the counter. Shortly thereafter the clerk yelled, “Who’s next?” The two elderly women said we are and proceed to cut in from of Natalie and me. In the past I would have ignored their indiscretion, kept my mouth shut and not spoken up for myself. But, I thought I should not allow people to take advantage of me! More importantly I realized that I was a mom and my daughter would be looking to me for answers and modeling my behavior!!! I very politely went up to the women and looked directly in their eyes and sid, “excuse me but I was next.” For me, these event in the market, created a defining moment and a life altering event. Although the events only lasted a few minutes, I realized that I was a mother and always would be. My daughter would need me to teach her life-lessons. Provide answers and would look to me for support. I was her mother and for ever more a parent. By politely asserting myself I took what was rightfully mine and modeled the type of behavior I would want my daughter to have.

Friends are Always Somewhere When Stephanie was in Kindergarten at Hankey Elementary school. She does the usual things: learn from the teacher, sit queitly and listen, eat snacks during break time, watch her class mates fool around and get hurt, (stephanie chuckles), and leaves home. one thing she forgets is to make a friend. how do you forget make friends you may ask? well stepanie was a shy little girl who cannot speak English very well. so what does she do? (i don't remember what i did.) Stephanie went to school again the next day.actually the next year, 1st grade, stephanie remembers some of her classmates from kindergaten. there were two! their names were Kimantha and Sylvan. Kim, Kimantha for short, was a little girl who was shy just like stepanie. Sylvan is an energetic girl who likes to cheer people up. When stephanie came up to them, they didn't ignore her or make weird looks at her, which probably means they have accepted her friendship.They have been together and making more new firends until 6th grade. going to a new school, newhart middle school. many elementary schools come together to one school, meaning meeting more new friends. Stephanie was anxious to see more new people. throughtout the year, she made more and more friends. She had a great year. When 7th grade came and toward the end of the year, Sylvan got bad news. Sylvan had to move and go to a different school. When Stephanie heard about this, she had no reaction. why u may ask. Stephanie believe that Sylvan will always keep in touch...after years and years, graduating middle school and going to high school, Stephanie, now a sophmore, still keeps in touch with Sylvan. Kim is always with Stephanie. They talk about how they remember they're time with Sylvan. Stephanie and Sylvan sees each other and still spends their time together having fun. Sylvan and Kim sees each other at their church and keeps in touch. Today Stephanie is still making more good friends and will never forget her friends.
 * Story**

It seems that some people are born to pursue a direction in life that may focus on career, adventure, wealth building, helping others or service to one’s country. For many others, their purpose in life is slower to arrive and could be a chance meeting with a special someone that becomes the biggest part of their life – Mrs. Right. For him, the defining moment came at a friends New Years Eve party in La Jolla Village, on December 31st, 1983. This is where he met his mate for life.
 * Story**
 * Meeting “Mrs. Right”**

At 24 years old, marriage and the commitment that came with it were not “on the radar” at this stage of his life. He was making decent money working as a steeplejack and had plenty of time between jobs to surf, golf, travel, and enjoy good times with friends.

Unbeknownst to him, mutual friends had targeted him and a “valley girl” from La Mesa (San Diego) in a matchmaking plot for the New Year’s celebration. So, off he went to the party, like a cow to slaughter, oblivious to the fate that awaits him. A hot babe!

By profiling the male target’s predisposition to position himself in close proximity to the largest concentrations of food and drinks, the conspirators had cunningly arranged the introduction to Mrs. Right in the kitchen. Still to this day, it is amazing, that his conspicuous consumption that night did not spook the girl.

Without sounding too analytical about the initial moments of this budding relationship, primal instincts began to subconsciously qualify the potential of this female. Without a doubt, physical attraction played a key role in his first impression. Her athletic body frame was important to him as any prospective mate would need to be a sports partner throughout their relationship. Her strawberry blonde hair and facial characteristics matched his criteria for an attractive woman.

Initial small talk and conversation evolved into discussions about interests and activities. A strange feeling that this might person might be someone special was immediate and exciting to him. After discovering that she had no serious illnesses and that her father was not in prison or on the run, he felt relief. She appeared to have a somewhat normal family. With important background information gathering complete, it was time to take the next step: ask her for a date and get her phone number. His proposition was accepted and her phone number was secured. Game on!

With all of the distractions and other people at the party, the defining moment could have easily never happened. That fateful moment on New Year’s Eve grew into a serious monogamous relationship and four-year courtship that lead to marriage and children.

Looking back, he believes that he is very fortunate to have found true love that night. Of course, his marriage meant drastic life style changes and the sacrifice of certain selfish pleasures: like watching football all day Sunday, buying stuff that you want, going on road trips with buddies, etc... In hindsight, he knew that the life path that he was on was not leading him to the long-term fulfillment that is possible by having his own family.

The reality had set in is that his bachelor freedom was growing old and he was ready to fill the void in his life with the stability and support of his own family. He and his bachelor friends have grown apart because they do not share the same interests.

The freedom to do as he pleases was gone in exchange for responsibility and commitment to his wife and family “until death do us part”. The pride and joy of having a family, providing for them and watching them grow, is the primary source of his self-esteem and gives meaning to his life.

Spending time with his family comes first for him and he would not have it any other way. He is truly grateful for the extended family that he has and the incredible friendships that he has developed through his family lifestyle.

Meeting his future wife many years ago was the single most significant defining moment in his life. It has helped him put everything in perspective and given him what everyone wants – happiness.

The night before her mother died, she didnıt sleep worth a shit. Tossing and turning, listening for a groan or movement, it was agony just to lay there. The hardest thing of all was knowing where it was all headed...and that her mom would be leaving her for good.
 * Story**

The night before she flew to see her mother, she realized where she was going and what was going to happen. ÊI canıt think about that now. Iıll think about that later.Ë was her mantra. And she packed her things, did her errands, and organized her house. It was the first time she had ever left her home not knowing for sure when she would return.

When she arrived the next night, there was a rush of memories just walking into the house. The smells and sights were so familiar. She had grown into a woman in that house and every room and object held special meaning for her: the couch her mom used to sleep on waiting for her to return from a night out with her friends; the kitchen table where she had eaten hundreds of meals with her five siblings and parents; the fancy living room that was off-limits to her in childhood.

She walked down the hall to the bedroom where her mother lay. She thought that her voice would rouse her mom, that its sound would wake her from her deep sleep. She was wrong. Her mother was not sleeping, she was in a coma and would never awaken. Sadness filled her as she realized that she would never again hear her motherıs voice saying, ÊHi sweetie. Itıs so good to lay eyes on you.Ë The only sound was her motherıs breath, now coming quickly and with great effort. The woman who was her mother was not in that room. Only this now emptying shell of a body.

The woman announced her arrival. ÊHi Mom. Iım here. I love you. Iım going to miss you so much. Thank you for everything. You were a great Mom. You taught me so much. Thank you. Thank you.Ë It was then that she began to cry as the immensity of the loss was felt like a weight on her heart. It was like a sadness unlike any other she had experienced. The only thing she could think to do was to rub her momıs face and hands.

Then she moved her things to the room across the hall and started to do her little tasks; unpacking her things; setting out her toiletries; getting a drink of water. Again, she was reminding herself, ÊI wonıt think about that now. Iıll think about that later.Ë

After that sleepless night, listening, listening...she began to distract herself from the dying. She got busy and chatted with siblings and friends. Her one-year-old nephew needed feeding and changing, and he was beginning to babble and laugh. And then her brother entered the room and announced, "She's gone." And she could no longer say to herself, "I'll won't think about that now. I'll think about that later."

She didn’t believe that any life could be defined by one cathartic moment: certainly, every behavior has its consequences, and every experience has its repercussions. Nothing done can be undone, per se, but most acts can be ameliorated by later acts. Her life as a child and as an adult had always been defined by the expectations of others. After all, what you see is what you get, right? Good grades, the right colleges, being home on time, and a clean house keep everyone from knowing the real you. She was expected to be perfect, and she could dot the i’s and cross the t’s with the best of them. Color in the lines. Go to church every Sunday. Use good manners at the dinner table. She never had to question what was expected of her, but she never got to really figure out what she expected of herself. She knew that failure was not an option. She just never fathomed the extent to which maternity would change her life. The first evidence of her new independence was the pregnancy itself. No one but she could know how she felt. No one but she could feel the baby moving in her. No one but she could sense the growing relationship – both physical and emotional – that they shared. And certainly, in her mind, no one but she had ever loved another being as she loved this baby. The intimacy of pregnancy changed her forever. She felt beautiful and special and, well, unique. It was as though she was graced by the hand of God. And, of course, that responsibility! All of a sudden she realized that it wasn’t about her any more. She couldn’t just act the part and think it convinced anyone that she was doing all the right things. She couldn’t get away with anything, because she’d be getting away from herself. So she ate the right things, and took her vitamins, and slept a lot and listened to what her baby told her to do. But she was still thinking in terms of finite experiences, and didn’t fully understand that this baby wasn’t only Act I; she was the overture to a very long and wonderful opera. She was taking a college course at the time, and thought of motherhood in terms of scheduling. The baby would be born after her final. She would have a short time to recuperate and then would return to college and work and life. Everything would go according to plan. She would be a perfect child who spoke four languages and played Chopin with finesse. Nothing prepared her for the overwhelming love and devotion that surged in her once that baby was born, however. Nothing prepared her for the dramatic shift the direction of her life would take. She never did go back to work or to school. Leave that perfect child with another person? Fat chance. Let someone else see her walk or talk or smile or even poop without her? No way. She wanted to know and understand everything about the child, and to do so required that they were always together. It was the best thing that ever happened to her, and those days continue to be golden moments in her memory. Maternity changed her in ways even she will never fully comprehend. She did not return to the work force for another twenty years. She knew she was blessed to have the option, and she was grateful that she had the opportunity to be with her children as they grew and experimented and tested her and the world around them. But at first the transition from academia and professional life to domesticity was difficult. At a party, once, after the baby was born, a man asked her what she did. She proudly replied (where she had once said “I’m a psychologist” or “I’m getting an accounting degree”)…”I’M A MOM.” She believed in the merit and authenticity and value of maternity. After all, she’d be raising another human being. What more valuable job was there? But the man looked at her in askance, and said, “Oh” and walked away. Her new reality smacked her hard in the face. Her kudos and esteem had always come from work and school. Her success was obvious from her pay check and her good grades and her wonderful evaluations. But what would give her that authenticity as a mother? No one would give her a grade. There weren’t any tests to ace. She couldn’t deposit a paycheck, or get a raise. And no one gave her written comments on her performance. She was on her own. And for the first time in her life, she had to rely not on others to tell her she was doing the right thing, but on her own innate judgment. It wasn’t important to do what looked good or was most expedient; she had to do what was right. She knew that she couldn’t just tell her daughter what to do, she had to live the part…show her the right way to live. Having children gave her a reason to live. That sounds dramatic, doesn’t it? But without that link to the future, that role in a huge and wonderful opera, what would her purpose be? In the long run, family is all we have. Friends and jobs and careers and homes and, even, dogs come and go; what will remain is that wonderful relationship born of maternity called family.
 * Story**

The late winter sun riding low across the southern sky dipped behind the tops of the grove of Eucalyptus trees surrounding their home in the hills above the San Francisco Bay. The waving Eucalyptus branches shattered and faceted the gold sun as it flowed through the large glass windows and gently danced across the oak floor of the living room where a thin Episcopal monk stood in a white robe and an ecclesiastic stole. Except for the lack of a beard, he could have been pulled from a Byzantine mosaic. In the room were assembled a New Testament professor and his recent boyfriend, the dean of the graduate school of theology and her female lover of many years, and a Berkeley research professor then riding herd over the human genome project. Two men stood before the monk celebrating the twenty years that they had lived together, exchanging rings and formally committing themselves to each other in the eyes of God and these friends of theirs. They celebrated the past twenty years of shared life, especially loving each other “…to the level of everyday’s most quiet need, by sun and candle light.” (Elizabeth Barrett Browning, From Sonnets from the Portuguese 43) Dinners prepared together, the day shared and unraveled, dishes done, and a night spent sleeping in each other’s arms. Lives filled with quotidian needs, frustrations, and pleasures. Lives blessed with the support and love of family and friends. Strange that such an affirmation of love and commitment to each other can cause anxiety among so many people. Strange that the love of two men and their rather ordinary lives together is blamed for the decline of the American family and is viewed as part of some conspiracy to undermine the morals of America. Odd that love between two people can cause fear and hatred among people who don’t even know them. Odd that gay people are condemned by others for being promiscuous and at the same time condemned for wanting the societal support and affirmation that marriage provides. Often people say, “Why do gay people make such an issue about marriage? Can’t they just live their lives and let it go at that?” Why, because marriage is viewed as one of the most sacred commitments that a person can make. To say that a group of people cannot make that commitment says what? If you cannot, is it because you are not capable of commitments that others can make or your emotions and capacity to love are some how less than other people? Given the thousands of gay men who have stayed with their lovers, supported them, cared for them and held them as the wasted and died from Aids, have we not proven to the world and to God that we can commit to each other and love each other until death does us part? Do not many gay men and women have children that they love and care for? Clearly the raising, caring for, and loving of children are not beyond the scope of gay relationships. If the care of children defines marriage, should not straight people who are childless have their marriage revoked? And indeed, those who condemn gay people consider them to be less than human. The Anglican Archbishop of Nigeria, Peter Akinola is among those who condemn gay people. In reference to the sexual union between two men, Akinola states “even in the world of animals dogs, cows, lions, we don’t hear of such things.” (New Yorker April 17, 2006) So, in the eyes of this prince of the church, gay people are not only less than human, we are less than animals. Perhaps Shakespeare expressed prejudice best in Shylock’s soliloquy on his being hated because he was a Jew, //“Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? Fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer as a Christian is?---if you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die?...” (Merchant of Venice Act III Scene I)// And so it is for gay people. We bleed. Staunch the wound, acknowledge our humanity, and let us marry.
 * STORY**

Bill Stratton was an enlisted man in the U.S. Army. He applied for Officer Candidate School (OCS), and was accepted. If he successfully completed the program he would be promoted to a Second Lieutenant, receive a nice pay increase and other benefits. However, it would mean he would be responsible for instructing, leading and disciplining a group of enlisted men. He also would have to agree to remain in the U.S. Army for three more years. His friend decided to make the best of service time, completed OCS, and became a platoon leader. Soon thereafter, another opportunity confronted Bill, who was now married and a father. He wanted more for his family and if he became a paratrooper, he would receive extra pay. However, he would risk injury or death if something went wrong during a jump. He would be jeopardizing his responsibility to his family. He wrestled with the decision but in the end he reported for airborne training. His family would benefit from the extra pay. Soon after earning his wings, he was on a practice jump. His wife and infant son were at the landing site. They watched the men jump from the aircraft and float down under the bellowing parachutes. They suddenly heard an urgent command over the loudspeaker in the command tower. "Pull your reserve soldier! Pull your reserve!" The young woman looked up to a frightening sight. One of the men was falling very fast. His parachute was wrapped around his body. He was struggling to loosen it. Finally it unfurled but one of the lines was caught over the chute. It looked like a giant bra, called a Mae West. The soldier was struggling to get his reserve chute deployed while also trying to get the line off his chute. Finally, the line began to slide but as it did, it created friction and that heat was destroying the parachute material. The young soldier was struggling. He saw the ground was coming up too fast so he prepared for a hard landing. His training had paid off. He landed hard but unharmed. He went to assure his wife that he was safe. He later thought about the wisdom of his decision to risk the well being of his young family for some extra pay. He concluded that he had made a decision based on the facts and circumstances he knew at the time. Some might say, however, that his decision to risk his well being may not have adequately considered the possible consequences He may have been overly influenced by the rewards aspect versus his long term family responsibilities.
 * Story - Big Choice**

When Connie was a sophomore in high school, she saw her future husband performing an impersonation of Al Jolson at a school program. She already knew a lot about Bill Stratton. He was a senior, in the National Honor Society, chosen to attend New Jersey Boys’ State, was President of the Student Council, and even played football. Knowing all that and then seeing his big, warm wonderful smile and gorgeous curly hair, he was someone worth pursuing. And she did! She found out he has a crush on a red headed girl, in later years this got him a lot of teasing when Charlie Brown was captured by "the little red headed girl". And she admitted she had a lot of boy friends to pick from but she couldn’t get Bill off her mind. The problem was how to get a very popular senior to notice a lowly sophomore. Fortunately, she was a class officer, an officer in the student council, and a cheerleader, so their paths did cross. Unfortunately, that was it. She racked her brain thinking of some way to get to know him better. In the meantime, she was active in her church youth group and played on their girls basketball team. Because they had trouble finding rides to the other towns to play their games, an idea struck her. Bill drives, has his own car, and if she could just get him to her youth group, a lot of problems would be solved. Unfortunately, it required a little white lie. One day she told him that her youth group was looking for some new members and asked if he would like to drop in on Sunday night. Was she surprised and very pleased when he showed up. He came in, sat on the ministers couch and she rushed over and sat beside him. By the end of the evening, she was sure he was the one for her. It did take her several months of him driving the basketball players to games to secure that first date. After a few weeks, he started to take everyone home first, saving her for last. It was clear that it was only a matter of time until he asked her out. She knew the red headed girl was forgotten and she stopped dating other young men. And so, on February 14th, 1951, they had their first date, and so they have actually been a couple for fifty eight ears. She admitted there were ups and downs as with most couples, but the joy in their life together with their three children was well worth that little white lie.
 * Story - First High School Sweetheart**

It was another dreary rainy summer day in Berlin when Dori boarded the plane that would take her to Paradise. Well, a brief lay-over in Paris and then off to The City of Angels; Los Angeles, California.
 * Story = First Day At The Beach in California**

It sounded too good to be true. Dori & her friends had spent hours discussing the virtues of America, the endless possibilities, the wide open spaces, Hollywood, the beaches, etc.

They had spent a few lazy summer days laying by the lake trying to get a tan so Dori wouldn’t look out of place when she finally set foot onto those sandy beaches she dreamed of.

It was a long trip to California, but when the plane finally touched down in Los Angeles, she wasn’t tired at all.

A friend met her at the airport and together they started their trip down the coast to their destination, Huntington Beach.

They drove along Pacific Coast Highway through towns with magic names like Manhattan Beach, Redondo Beach, Hermosa Beach, Long Beach and Seal Beach; Dori grew restless & slightly disappointed; where was the beach that was so promisingly advertised in these towns names. Nothing but strip malls, houses & businesses.

They reached Sunset Beach, and finally the road opened.

WOW, there it was. But wait what about all those contraptions on the left. This didn’t look at all like the beach towns with the boardwalks, restaurants & cabanas on the sand she knew from Germany.

“Oil Pumps” her friend explained, “no big deal, they’re all over, even in the back yard of my apartment. Sometimes they squeek at night but you’ll get used to it.”

As they drove along the highway they came closer to the center of town, more and more small, ramshackle buildings appeared, ice cream parlors, bars, Surfshops & small convenience stores. They reached Main street, the main drag intersecting with the Pacific Coast Highway right opposite the pier. The street corners were flanked by Jacks Surf shop & the “Golden Bear” a local bar & Nightclub advertising live bands, on the southside of the street.

Dori and her friend decided to stop and take a stroll along the pier. At the entrance to the pier a statue of a legendary Surfer greeted them and underneath the words “Welcome to Huntington Beach, Surf Capitol of the World”.

The pier, then the longest then in California, went on forever. From there the view was magnificent, as far as the eye could see, nothing but wide, white, sandy beach, a beautiful blue & turquoise shimmering ocean & clear blue skies above. No clouds in sight.

“This must be Paradise”, Dori thought to herself, “everything is just perfect”. The waters around the pier were filled with surfers, bobbing up and down as they were sitting on their surfboards waiting for just the right wave to ride.

It was getting late and Dori finally grew tired from her long trip. Everything seemed to be a blur & she knew she needed some sleep before she could fully appreciate the sights.

Early the next morning she got up & rode her friend’s bike to the beach. She rode past a huge power plant & a large mobile home park (a sight she had never seen before as these kinds of homes do not exist in Germany) & crossed PCH (she quickly learned the abbreviation for this long & beautiful stretch of road). A chain link fence stopped her journey, she found an opening & crossed over to the sand. There she chained her bike to the fence & for the first time her toes touched the white, warm, soft sand and she knew - this is were she wanted to spent her summer days.

She ran towards the water, threw down her towel, slathered sunscreen on herself (only because her friend had warned her how quickly she would burn if she goes without) and off into the surf she went.

BRR, the water was COLD! How can that be, with the sun beating down this hot all day, how can that water be so frigid? No matter, after a while she got used to it, the waves crashed onto the shore & she got bolder & bolder wading further out into the sea. The waves grew bigger & stronger & before long Dori got knocked down, tumbled upside down, scrapped her knees across the sand, took a few sips of ocean water & resurfaced.

Wow, that was powerful surf. More than once did she have to scoop sand out of her bikini bottom.

She quickly grew tired of battling the waves & dragged herself back to the towel were she slumped down exhausted. She dozed off for a short time and as the day grew hotter she decided to give the water another try, she needed that refreshing feeling. She soon realized those few days in the sun by the lake in Germany were no preparation for this life.

During the course of the day she hit the water a few times and each time she grew more comfortable in the water, catching the waves just at the right time without taking a tumble. Every time returning to her towel, closing her eyes & taking in the special aroma of warm sand, suncscreen & salty water that enveloped her.

She had lost track of time & only when the sun almost set did she realize she had spent all day just one with nature.

She grabbed her bike & on the ride home her mind was made up this is how she wanted to spent most of the summer.

Although there were many other sites & adventures awaiting her during her first summer in Southern California these first days at the beach were so perfect & left a lasting impression like nothing she experienced before.

When she went back to Germany she was tanned like never before & her muscles had gotten strong from her daily workout in the surf in the “Surf Capital of the World”.

She knew then that this was the place for her, she had to return some day soon, because this is where she wanted to spent the rest of her life.

Anthony Gonzales did not grow up like the other children. He was raised with a special religious upbringing, which encouraged a relationship with God rather than with his friends at school. Therefore, he was set apart from the world. Well, he was set apart from the world that he knew. He had plenty of friends at school, which worried his mother a great deal. She did not want him associating with the wrong crowd, and to her, nearly everyone at school was considered the "wrong crowd". As said before, he had a good number of friends but because of his beliefs, he was not able to attend any birthday parties or holiday events of which he was constantly invited. This led a few people to think he did not like them, but in reality, he turned down their invitations because of what he believed in. Now, this would normally be considered a noble and honorable thing - standing up for what you believe in. To Anthony, though, it did not sit well with him. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew he did not truly believe what had been instilled in him since his childhood. At the age of 15, he formally renounced his faith, to his mother's tremendous dismay. She was utterly crushed by his decision, and tearfully begged on numerous occasions that he reconsider. Plagued by guilt, Anthony nearly succumbed to her requests. Eventually he firmly stated that he would have no part in that religion anymore, and did his best to convince his mother she did not fail in raising him; he simply wished to walk down a different path than she. It took Anthony the better part of 2 years to feel comfortable enough to attend any holiday or party of any kind. He had been so used to never celebrating anything, that this new concept of being able to join in on the festivities was slightly unsettling to him. After a while, he began partying with his friends, engaging in underage drinking and even tried smoking; he did not like smoking though. His best friend at the time was a girl named Colleen Kazmaier. She and her family had essentially taken Anthony in as a family member, treating him like their own. The holiday season was coming around, and Anthony's birthday usually landed on Thanksgiving. The Kazmaiers invited him to spend Thanksgiving with them, and he graciously accepted. His first Thanksgiving dinner was remarkable! He had a truly splendid time, and enjoyed conversing with the family afterwards. Now, Anthony has quite a keen and perceptive eye. He began to notice subtle looks aimed at him and between family members. A few people left to the kitchen, and before he knew it, the lights went out. Anthony is also a rather intelligent being, but having not grown up the same way as most other kids, he did not expect to be thrown a surprise birthday party. The thought of a party specifically for him would have never occurred to Anthony. When they came out with a cake and lit candles, the birthday-boy had the most shocked expression one could fathom. They began to sing with jolly voices and large smiles. Placing the cake in front of him, they waited for him to blow out the candles, as is the custom with birthday parties. Anthony hesitated and thought back to every movie and television show he had seen that involved birthday parties. He realized he should make a wish, and blow out the candles. He wished that this would happen to him every year, and then proceeded to blow the candles out. It was in that moment that Anthony finally felt normal. He had always felt apart from his friends, but that event changed everything. It made him feel more special than any other person in the history of birthday parties. From that moment on, Anthony celebrated every holiday, birthday party, and any other significant religious celebrations that he was invited to. He was changed forever, after receiving his first birthday party at the age of 17.
 * Story = First Real Holiday**


 * Story = First Big Impact**

One of the oddities of life is how seemingly small events that occur in life can make an incredible difference in our journey. Perhaps it is not being able to locate the car keys so we are late leaving the house in the morning but as a result we aren't part of a 5-car pile up on the freeway. Perhaps it is an electrical outage causing our alarm not to go off so that we miss an interview for a job we thought would be perfect but then we find another even better opportunity. It is also true that we frequently do not realize the extent that the small event has changed our lives until much much later. For Marcia Stratton, a seemingly small shift set her off on a new direction and an unexpected career path. Like many students who begin college she "knew" where she was heading with my life and my career. As it turned out she was wrong, oh so very wrong. It was spring semester in 1975 and she was on the path to a degree in business education. Fortunately, as it turned out, one of the required classes for my major was full. This meant Marcia was going to have to change my carefully calculated four year - semester by semester plan and substitute an elective class for something not on her carefully constructed schedule for another two semesters. As she searched and searched the class schedule for something that would fit my time requirements she ended up on a whim and out of some level of desperation signing up for a class called Argumentation and Debate. Marcia had already completed Public Speaking (a requirement at the college) the previous semester and found the Instructor to be somewhat entertaining. Since her options were limited, she figured "why not." That was the event being closed out of the class she needed and ending up in the class that was an elective. Well, the Instructor in question was also the coach of the Speech Team. He, always looking for new recruits, set up the class with a requirement that all students had to attend one Speech Tournament in order to pass. He was, as she found out later, not unwilling to blackmail and bribe students to round out his team. And so the adventure began. . . It was April and the tournament he arranged for Marcia and the team to attend, was in beautiful downtown Trenton, NJ. Our intrepid group of about 10 piled into a school van and headed east from Wilkes University in Pennsylvania for the three-day event. Teams from Colleges and Universities from Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York, Maryland, Virginia to name a few streamed into Trenton, NJ and made their way to the rolling campus of Trenton State. After a few wrong turns, some delightful rest stops, and several long hours they arrived at the hotel, a term she used loosely. It was two-story, badly in need of paint, open air, with a pool that was covered with dried dead leaves from the previous autumn. To say it was run down would be elevating its status. Our coach, who checked them in, told the team as he distributed our room keys that the clerk at the desk told him he was so glad to have college students for the weekend as the usual clientele rented by the hour. As they lugged their suitcases up the stairs to the rooms on the backside of the hotel they noted a bright green, pristine condition Cadillac in the alley. In that era and given our current knowledge of the place only one word could adequately describe it, pimpmobile. Needless to say the adventure was shaping up. We entered our room and four women sharing one bathroom is always an adventure in itself, where the girls were greeted with décor that would suggest a staggering lack of understanding of basic aesthetics. Not only the color combinations raised questions but also the patterns, as they were overwelmed with a combination of paisley, floral, and geometrics. Ahh the 70’s, they sure knew décor in that decade. As painful as the décor was it did not compare to the state of cleanliness. Marcia bumped the single lamp in the room as she put down my suitcase and a cloud of dust puffed out the top. Fortunately for them, they were not going to spend much time in these accommodations as the tournament ran from 8:00 am to 7:00 pm each day. The goal of having students in the class attend the tournament was to give the team a look at debate in action to enhance our understanding or so our Instructor/coach claimed. But in order to justify the college paying our expenses, everyone all had to be entered in events at the tournament. Marcia thought this was just another crafty ploy for the Instructor/coach to lure students onto the team. But she entered two events: Persuasive Speaking and Impromptu Speaking. There were 100’s of students participating in the tournament and coming from a pretty small town, with a small High School and attending a small liberal arts college the experience of being on a huge campus surrounded by thousands of students was new. This was compounded by the fact that she had never been to a Speech and Debate Tournament of any kind much less participated in one. It was all new and on some levels quite daunting. The tournament was set up so that those in Individual Events like Persuasive Speaking, Impromptu Speaking, Informative Speaking, etc. competed in three preliminary rounds. Each round had between five and eight contestants. The top speakers in each round advanced to the final rounds. Marcia was not the least bit surprised when the final contestants for Impromptu Speaking were announced and her name was not on the list. The topics, were too ridiculous for words and with only 1 minute to prepare it was pretty much a crapshoot. She remembers one of the rounds the topic she picked (topics were chosen randomly) was some song title that made no sense whatsoever and one was a quote which she still remembers, "Love isn't like a sack of potatoes, you can't throw it out the window." Right, like you can do a 3-5 minute speech on that But Marcia did better in Persuasive Speaking. She knew what she was talking about here as these were pre-prepared speeches. But she never imagined she would make it into the final round since she was competing against students who had been doing this kind of competition all year, some for several years. When our Instructor/Coach came up to our now tired Group after almost two full days of competition and said "Guess who made the finals for Persuasive Speaking?" you could have knocked Marcia over with a feather when he said her name. What was even more astounding was when he said that arrangements were being made to broadcast all final rounds on campus radio. Here she was at my first Speech tournament ever, entered for the first time ever in Persuasive Speaking, making it to the final round, and being broadcast on the radio. When all was said and done Marcia had won fourth place. Wow, it was something! She competed in sports in High School, had been a majorette and won some things, and even had some sewing projects acknowledged, but this was really the first time I had competed in something "intellectual." It really changed her perceptions. More than that though what she didn't realize as she walked down the aisle of the auditorium to accept my trophy was that that one event, a closed class, changed her career path and her life. It would be another year before she realized this and even now she still marvels at how something as seemingly minor as switching from one class to another changed her entire life.


 * Story- Off to College**

At first he was not too nervous about going so far away from home fore college, yet as the time drew near, more and more did he feel thos butterflies that his friends had told him about. He was becoming more nervous the week that he was to leave for UC Davis and he began to have second thoughts. Yet he knew that is was too late to think that way. But even still, he began to think about the things he was leaving behind. He would have to move away from his friends and family and all the things that he had spent most of his life going after. Not so much material things, although he does miss his car, but it was people that he began to miss the most, and this was all before he even left! Finally that fateful day came when he had to pack up his things and leave for college. He say his goodbyes to all his friends and close family and then it came time for him to say goodbye to his girlfriend. He then said goodbye to his first kiss, girlfriend, and love of his life as he drove off to his new life in Davis. That was the moment he began to change. He made new friends, met new professors, and settled in the dorms, which would be his new home for the next year. He has learned new things about himself such as his beliefs, and his abilities. He has also grown up a lot and learned new things. He learned about the difficulty of a long distance relationship with his family, friends, and girlfriend. All three of which he is grateful to still have. At the moment he left Costa Mesa, he realized that there is so much more to life for him to learn. His first year at UC Davis is just one step in his education about finding out who he really is.


 * Story- Life and Death**

Saturday, May 6, 2000. That night changed his life, and made him who he is today. After a long day of chores and errands, his family pulled out the hide-away-bed and popped in a movie. It was what they had all been waiting for, relaxation after a long week. Midway through the movie, the phone rang. They let their answering machine get the phone, and when they heard it was his aunt, who never calls, he jumped up since he was the closest to the phone. He picked up the phone while his brother paused the movie. As soon as she heard his voice, she asked in a staggering, stern, yet somber voice for his mother. He knew something had gone wrong. He began to pray as he handed the phone to his mother. His brother joined him as they watched their mom recieve the news that changed their lives. A face of discomfort and sadness looked at them, trying to be strong. It wasn't working. He and his brother began to cry without knowing exactly what happened, but they knew it was not good. When she hung up the phone, his mom tried to gain her composure before speking to her boys. "I have always told you everything, and this will not be different. Your father has passed away..." So many thought went through his mind. The rest of his mother's conversation was a blurr, as he wanted to know what happened, but his mind was at an overloaded, overwhelmed state. His father had been in Thailand for two months helping his mom who was getting old in her age, and only had a month left before he came home, but all that changed. He remembered the last time he saw his father. His father had told him how proud he was of him, that he loved him, and to take care of his mother. That hug before his father left was the hardest, most somber hug he can remember. That night, all his family could do was pray and cry, and that is all they did until they could not cry anymore, and they fell asleep. The next morning he woke up with a deep breath, knowing that a new day had come. Surprisingly, tears did not come. That night, he asked God to be his Abba father, and his reliance on Him grew ever stronger. They got ready to go to church the next morning, and life continued, but not without obstacles. May 6, 2000 was the day he learned to rely on his Father. It was a day when he had to choose to either give up, or persevere. It was a day when he decided to grow. Since then, he has felt a stronger urge to help his family, raise his brother, succeed and excel in everything he does, and reflect God's love. Although this event was tragic in his life, it has allowed him to become the person he is today.

//Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, "The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him." The Lord is good to thos whose hope is in him, to the one who seeks him...// //Lamentations 3:22-25//

2001, the start of a new century, a new millennium and the year she learned true humility. Her most “defining moment” was not really a moment but a series of events that happened over a period of 9 months. No, it was not the birth of a child, although there is no greater moment of accomplishment, joy, pride, and pure awe she will ever experience in a single moment in time as that of the birth of her children. Her “defining moment” begins in March 2001. It starts simple enough, a home remodel. Many families do it, a new remodel starts everyday somewhere in your neighborhood, how hard can it be?
 * __STORY__**

She packed up her family of four and 1200 square foot house and moved into a 30-foot motor home parked in her driveway. The family went from closets that they all thought were to small, standard 8 to 10 foot, to 12 inches each! They managed, you really only need 2 pair of pants, 4 tops and a sweater, we live in Southern California, and it’s always warm. They went from a 10 by 11 family room, which they thought was to small, to 2 captains chairs (driver and passenger seats) a 5 foot couch (fold a bed) and a small kitchen table (also a fold a bed) and don’t forget the 12 inch TV screen. They were probably spending too much time watching TV and this was an incentive to not watch the March Madness for 3 weeks straight. She went from not even giving a thought about how all the electric appliances run, to running everything she could manage on one extension cord running from a temporary power pole. She won’t even go into the lack of bedrooms or bathrooms and the whole privacy issues. It was all still manageable and her family was up for the challenge.

In April, just one month into their home adventure, a real adventure presented itself. Her family had the opportunity to spend 3 weeks in China. They were not going to let this opportunity pass by. It was easy to pack light, seeing as they had very few clothing options, i.e., 12” closets. Most everything was in storage and inaccessible. Her family had one of the best vacations they’d been on and part two of her “defining moment”. What a wonderful, warm group of people she met. How can she whine about a motor home for a few months after experiencing the simplicity these people live in? Many might call it poverty; she would call it resourcefulness. She was humbled by the fact that even though her 30-foot motor home was a step up for many of the families she saw, she was sure not a one of them would have traded their home for hers. A sparsely furnished one-room with a shared bath was where they were happy and where there family laughed, ate, slept. It was home.

She returned with her family to her motor home and admired the progress on the new addition. Somehow it all seemed a little ostentatious after the trip, but it was silly not to press forward and finish what she had started.

The end of the school year was closing in on us and we were looking forward to our summer activities. At this same time, I started having blurred vision. I attributed it to lack of sleep, jet lag, or anything else I could make an excuse for and not have to pay attention to it. However, it did not go away, I did have to pay attention and eventually found myself in Wills Eye Institute in Philadelphia being treated for a retinal melanoma. Again I am finding myself in a “defining moment”. Yes, I had cancer. Yes, my family was upset and freighted and yes you can pack for a week in Philly from a 12-inch closet. What I did not have was a death sentence. I was going to be OK. I just knew it. I was not going to have months of debilitating chemo. I was not going to lose my hair, lose weight, gain weight, and endure surgeries to remove or replace body parts and I was not going to die! (At least I told everyone I wasn’t going to die.) I actually had guilty feelings about being able to walk away form my treatment after one week and one one hour follow up in October. Done, that’s it, you’re fine. I am so humbled by the brave and courageous lives of patients that have to spend months, years, fighting and some of them losing no matter how hard they fight.

Following that little scare, I embarked on another adventure. This time by myself and 2500 other people. I said good-bye to my family, boarded a plane for San Jose, CA. to participate in the Avon 3-Day Walk for Breast Cancer. This is a 20-mile a day walk from Santa Clara to Golden Gate Park in San Francisco. You walk, pitch your tent, eat mess hall style food with 2500 famished women, rub your aching feet and go to bed to get up and do it again.

It was during these three days that I realized that I had a pretty incredible life and family. That any hardship I may have thought I faced, any turn of bad luck that I thought I had encountered, any “bad hair” days I had complained about…. It was all selfish whining.

These were the most incredible women and men I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. I can truly say, to this day, the summer of 2001 was the most defining time of my life.

The Night He Got His First Car: By Anonymous

It was a rainy night. But that didn’t deter Roy; he had his driver‘s license, and a new car. Well, not new. It was several years old, but he had just bought it that morning. He had been saving his money for months, getting up before dawn to put in extra hours at a neighbor’s farm before going to school. His family didn’t have a lot of money, certainly not enough to afford a second car, and since his Dad’s job required him to drive to several customers’ businesses every day and many evenings, Roy almost never got to use the family car.

But those days were over -- Roy was mobile! He could drive to school. No more school bus. Drive into town whenever he wanted. Meet up with his buddies at Krusty’s pizza joint anytime, without having to rely on bumming a ride. And most importantly, take his girl-friend Debby out properly. Double-dating with his best friend Jimmy was ok, but some-times you just want to cruise, alone with your girl. And parking down at the lake was going to be a lot more fun without Jimmy and his girl in the front seat. But tonight was the school’s homecoming dance; he and Jimmy were taking their girls, and it was finally Roy’s turn at the wheel. Man, it felt good. First, he had picked up Debby, and she just loved his new car. Especially the full-length bench seat in the front. No bucket seats to keep them apart, she could slide right over next to Roy. Then they swung by Jimmy’s house. He jumped into the front seat and they headed over to pick up his date. It was a small town, only one stop light. The streets that crossed Main Street were all 2-way stops; cars driving down Main Street didn’t have to stop, except at the stop light. Maybe the storm made the night darker, and the other driver didn’t see the stop sign. Maybe he wasn’t from around there and didn’t know that Main Street had the right of way. Roy had seen the car coming from his right, but assumed, of course, that he would stop. In fact, Roy stepped on the gas a little to get by the cross street quicker so the other driver could proceed. But the other car didn’t stop! All of a sudden it was right in front of Roy. The three kids screamed. Roy tried braking, but he was going too fast. He didn’t want to broadside the other car, so he cranked the wheel to the right as hard as he could. His car skidded sideways across the rain-slicked road. He managed to avoid the other car, sliding right behind it, but then his car hit the curb on the other side of the street. This caused it to rollover. Debby and Jimmy fell against Roy, crushing him against the driver’s door. Glass shattered, metal crunched. The car was upside down, then they were all thrown against the passenger door, and then they were all sitting upright in their original positions. The car had done one complete roll and came to rest on all four wheels again. The roof was crushed, all the glass was broken out, and the doors were dented. But that wasn’t important now. Was anyone hurt? Roy’s ribs hurt bad, but he wasn’t bleeding. Debby said she was ok. She was protected by being squeezed between the two guys, so she wasn’t thrown around too much. But Jimmy’s left arm had been stretched across the top of the bench seat. When the car rolled over on the driver’s side his hand had been thrust out the window and crushed. His wrist was bent at an awkward angle, probably broken, and there was a lot of blood on his fingers. An ambulance came, and the boys were taken to the hospital. Roy had broken a couple ribs. Jimmy’s wrist was broken. But the worst news was about his fingers. They had been badly crushed and nearly severed. They couldn’t be saved. His middle, ring, and pinky fingers had to be amputated. Roy’s ribs would heal; Jimmy’s wrist would heal. But Jimmy would never again have 5 fingers on his left hand. And Roy would live his life knowing that he was responsible for permanently maiming his best friend. He would always wonder if he was going too fast, if he was careful enough that rainy night, if a more experienced driver would have anticipated the potential problem. He knew that Jimmy paid the price for Roy’s mistake, for his inexperience and exuberance the night he got his first car.