Beaver Creek

Beaver Creek Ski Resort in Avon, Colorado is one of my favorite places to vacation. I adore the white powdery snow as it makes for some of the best snowboarding that I have experienced to date. There is a big beautiful village with shops, restaurants, and tons of people. The food on the mountain is great and one can usually find more than one option to suit their taste buds. The snow runs range in difficulty between simple and calm to complex and feverish. Snow lifts can be seen everywhere allowing for easy, though sometimes tense, access to the slopes.

Getting on and off of the lift is always a little intimidating for new comers and even those of us who are only able to get out in the snow once a year. I typically do fine, but I always expect the worst. It is as if I was going to forget how to properly navigate this machinery each year. Once on the lift, I get a chance to really take in all of the majestic sights of the mountain. It is pretty amazing to come to the top of a ridge and see the almost mirror like reflection of the sun’s rays in the snow. I breathe in the chilled mountain air and can smell the huge pine trees that litter the landscape. The constant hum and vibration of the lift chair resonate in my bones as I ascend the mountain. The frozen metal bench that I am perched upon acts as an anesthetic to my extremities. Luckily, I have the heavens and the beautiful mountain vistas before me to capture both, my attention and my gaze. I can see others making their way down the mountain. Some are on skis, some are on snowboards, and others are on their back (Ouch!). I look at my stepfather and ask, “Are we taking the blue diamond or the black diamond this time?” I knew he was going to pick the black diamond, but I figured I would ask.

He said, “Well, I am going on the black diamond are you sure you can handle it?” I laughed, since it was the third time we have made this particular run today. All I can hear other than the person next to me is the wind. As I arrive at the top of the mountain, I see the little building that houses the snow lift operator. The lift’s audible sound and the clambering of people dramatically increase as I get closer to the building. Once in position to dismount the lift, I wait until it is my chair’s turn and slide off of the lift chair and down a little hill.

Once we regroup to the side and out of the way of others coming off of the snow lift, I sit down on the snow to secure my board. The sun is so bright at this altitude that I have to squint my eyes to see what I am doing. First, I secure my right boot into its binding on the board and then my left. Then I ratchet them both down real tight to ensure proper control over my board. I push myself up on to my feet before my stepfather and I begin to descend the mountain. The wind picks up as I gain speed. I am surrounded by the white noise of the wind and my board meeting the snow. A constant “Shhhhh” is heard as I pick up even more speed. I see a patch of moguls up ahead. I choose to save my knees and go around them. It cost me some speed, but I am not in a race. Just beyond the moguls is a steep drop off. In order to maintain control and manage my speed I stick with the textbook side-to-side motion. The wind is really beginning to wear on my cheeks and my ears as I have no feeling left in them. I am so enthralled in the task at hand that the minor discomfort that this causes is easily forgotten. Once near the bottom third of the drop, I turn my board straight down the mountain and go as fast as I can. It is amazing the feeling of freedom that this gives you. It is the same exhilaration that I imagine flying would invoke. I see a small jump and I hit it at full speed and with a slight pump of my legs, I am airborne. The split second of euphoria as I feel my body leave the earth and glide through the air is surreal. I feel a sense of weightlessness, as if defying gravity. I stick the landing and an overwhelming feeling of accomplishment washes over me. I continue down the mountain and catch up with my stepfather. Ahead we see some of the flat spots of the run, so we make sure to carry a great deal of speed going into it. This ensures that we will not be stuck walking our equipment across the snow as opposed to riding it. At the first rest stop on this side of the mountain, we take a break to freshen up and visit with some of my relatives that braved the lift ride up.

The rest stop is a big log cabin with a full cafeteria and also acts as a central connection for some of the other runs. This allows us to meet up with my mother and cousins before continuing the rest of the way down the mountain. Not to mention, it is a great place to warm up with a cup of hot cider and contemplate which run to take from there. After resting a while, my stepfather and I decide to head back down the mountain to finish for the day. Once at the bottom, I feel a sense of accomplishment, knowing that it takes a lot of physical and mental strength to participate in the sport I love.

Beaver Creek is a fantastic resort, and although I may find one that surpasses it, I haven’t found one yet. On every given run down the slope of a mountain, one can embrace a feeling of freedom and accomplishment. It is unlike anything that I have experienced to date. I learned on the icy mountains of the east, so the powder that I experienced in the west was an extra special treat. I find it ironic that when I lived in the North and had to deal with snow on a daily basis, I could not wait to leave it. But now, I found a new love for snow and actually pay to vacation in it.

"Where am I From?" (Revised)

“Where am I from?” This is a difficult question, since I have lived in several places for an extended period of time. I was born on Barksdale Air Force Base in Bossier City, Louisiana. While I was still a baby, my parents moved to South Bend, Indiana. They separated a couple of years later and I stayed in Indiana with my father. At the age of nine, I moved to Georgia to live with my mother and stayed there until the present. All of this relocating has made it difficult for me to identify myself with a given location.

Since I did not live in Louisiana for very long, I was too young to generate an opinion of the city or state. I also do not know whether I share any of the people’s characteristics or behaviors. These points make it difficult to consider Louisiana as the place that I am from, which is odd, since it is where I was born. The next state took up some of my formidable years, so I will be able to draw many more comparisons between myself and my next location.

South Bend, Indiana is known for a couple things. Most notably is it is known for being the home of the University of Notre Dame. Naturally, I am a big fan of the “Fighting Irish” football team. Notre Dame’s prestige and public image, served as a beacon of hope for the surrounding inhabitants of South Bend. Another lesser known truth of South Bend is that it is home of the Merchants National Bank, which is one of the banks that John Dillinger robbed in the early 1930’s. I do find that I share some similar characteristics to the people of Northern Indiana. I find that I am much more comfortable in cold weather, which would make sense given the longer winters I experienced in South Bend as a child. This also makes Georgia summers a nightmare. South Bend has warm summers, but they are not as humid. I also think that these extended winters may have contributed to my “Golden Tan”, or lack thereof. My pale skin color appears to be a characteristic too as many of the white folks in this region share the same ultra-white, almost translucent complexion.

Around 9 years old, I moved to Marietta, Georgia. Everything in Marietta was so much nicer and cleaner than anything I experienced in South Bend. I noticed that the weather was much warmer and the winters were almost snow free. I went through middle school and high school in Marietta, so it became the place that I identified myself with the most. This is where I made the most friends and is also where I searched for and found my own individuality. I have been told by many Southerners that I sound like a northerner. This is because I do not share their “draw” or accent, which is funny since I was born in the south and spent the majority of my life in the south.

I am still unsure of where I am from. I guess it depends on whether one is referring to where someone is born or where someone mostly identifies with. If asked, where I am from, my answer would still be that I was born in Louisiana, but I am from Georgia. I made this decision knowing that I share more physical characteristics with the people of Indiana, but it is the friends and interactions of Georgia that I identify myself with the most.

Gaming Nostalgia

I have been a big fan of video games for as long as I can remember. It is definitely my favorite past time. My first experience with video games was the Commodore 64 home computer. Most of the games were pretty simple and lacked the technological strength that today’s gaming consoles and computers have. The home computers in that era were nothing like what we see today. Microsoft Windows was not even invented yet. Programs were initialized by the use of MS-DOS. Plus, Commodore’s had a built in cartridge peripheral to allow the use of game cartridges, which is pretty uncommon for home computers today. Though the Commodore 64 was fun, it lacked the immersion that later gaming systems adopted. The Nintendo Entertainment System (NES) is a shining example of newly adopted immersion.

One of the most memorable games that I played was Super Mario Brothers, which is a side-scrolling action plat former. The level design was unlike anything that the gaming industry had seen to date. The level of exploration and reward were second-to-none. I remember scouring the levels for new hidden levels and various other goodies, which was quite addictive. Not to mention, it made for some great bragging rights amongst my friends. I remember when I first found the “warp zones” on level 1-2 and that I was the first of my friends to find it. Unfortunately, I also found out that my older brother already found it and that he also found one on level 4-2.

The most fun I had in my youth involved my older brother and I doing laps on the massively popular kart racer, Mario Kart. This game made its debut on Super NES, which was the predecessor to the NES. The exhilaration, comradery, and enjoyment that I experienced while playing this game have seldom been matched. The feeling of accomplishment when I was able to spin my brother out, as infrequent as it may have been, was one of the things that kept me coming back for more. Still to this day, I find it hard to re-create the special moments that the older NES and SNES games gave me in my childhood.

Games have changed allot over the years. So much, that the industry has lost sight of the fundamentals that made up these games so appealing. I still play and enjoy the games of today, but I fear that I will never relive those feelings that so many others and I experienced back then. Perhaps it is not just video games or video game developers that have changed over the years. Would I still give Super Mario Bros. a play in today’s market? Unfortunately, I probably would not.

Jack Lemon: Reloaded

My one year old puppy is named Jack Lemon. Since my last name is Lemon, I thought that it would be cute to name him Jack. I like how his name is funny and at the same time I get to pay homage to the late, great actor, Jack Lemmon. After all, my puppy is quite a character. One of the great things about pets is that they provide unconditional love.

I love my puppy, but every once in a while I may have a bad day or I am busy with homework and I can tell that he is depressed. Usually, I will try to take a minute to play with him, so that he feels better, but there are days that I just cannot make the time. In these instances, Jack just lays on the futon behind me and stares at me with his sad, soulful eyes. Another common occurrence is when scheduling has not provided me or Lauisa (my wife) the time to stop by the house to let him out of his cage. He will give Lauisa and me an evil look and basically ignore us for a period of time. In both of these examples, Jack’s demeanor can be changed by showing him a little love. Once his tail starts wagging, he will stay in a pleasant mood for the rest of the night. Even though Jack gets upset with us from time to time, he always loves us in the end. Another great thing about Jack is the way he makes me feel as if I am the center of his universe.

The reaction that I receive from Jack when I come home from work and school every day is priceless. He demonstrates pure excitement and further embellishes on it with what I like to call, ‘the full-body wag’. ‘The full-body wag’ is when he does not stop with just a mere wiggle of his tail. His entire body begins to move from side to side. It gives me the feeling that I always brighten his day. I wonder if Jack realizes how much he brightens my day as well, since he always knows how to put a smile on my face.

Jack has become a great friend and an important part of our family. Now that he is a part of our life, I cannot fathom this life without him. I know that he will not last forever, but the impression he has made on myself and my family, will be long-lasting.

Jack Lemon

My one year old puppy is named Jack Lemon. Since my last name is Lemon, I thought that it would be cute to name him Jack. I like how his name is funny and at the same time I get to pay homage to the late, great actor. After all, my puppy is quite a character. One of the great things about pets is that they provide unconditional love.

I love my puppy, but every once in a while I may have a bad day or I am busy with homework and I can tell that he is depressed that I have not played with him. Usually, I will try to take a minute to play with him, so that he feels better, but there are days that I just cannot make the time. In these instances, Jack just lays on the futon behind me and stares at me with his sad, soulful eyes. Another common occurrence is when scheduling has not provided me or Lauisa (my wife) the time to stop by the house to let him out of his cage. He will give Lauisa and me the evil look and basically ignore us. In both of these examples, Jack’s demeanor can be changed by taking a moment to play with him. Once his tail starts wagging, he will stay in a pleasant mood for the rest of the night. Even though Jack gets upset with us from time to time, he always loves us in the end. Another great thing about Jack is the way he makes me feel as if I am the center of his universe.

The reaction that I receive from Jack when I come home from work and school every day is priceless. He demonstrates an appearance of sheer excitement and further embellishes on it with what I like to call, ‘the full-body wag’. ‘The full-body wag’ is when he does not stop with just a mere wiggle of his tail. His entire body begins to move from side to side. It gives me the feeling that I always brighten his day. I wonder if Jack realizes how much he brightens my day as well, since he always knows how to put a smile on my face.

Jack has become a great friend and an important part of our family. Now that he is a part of our life, I cannot fathom this life without him. I know that he will not last forever, but the impression he has made on myself and my family, will be long-lasting.

Spring

Yard work always seems to be more tolerable in spring. It is difficult to complain when one is surrounded by so much life. Just this last weekend I had a list of tasks that needed to be completed; some of which was very grueling work. But it is the feelings and images of my surroundings that made this day more significant.

It is a beautiful clear morning and the dew is still glistening on the blades of grass. The air is fresh and sweet with the smell of cut grass and flowers. Bumble-bees are in pursuit of pollen and every bird in the sky seems to be singing a song. A neighbor’s dog is barking in the distance and the children next door are playing outside. Off of my back porch I can see a huge spot of grassless dirt, which is where the prior tenant’s above ground pool sat. Zigzagging ruts made by the tractor can be seen all throughout the dirt. I grabbed the rake and began working.

Getting all of these ruts smoothed out is no easy task. The dirt is dry and hard, due to the rays of the spring-time sun. After some time, I found myself discouraged at how daunting this task is, but after a deep breath and a glance at my surroundings, I am at peace. After leveling the dirt, I began spreading the grass seed. I slung a handful at a time across the large stretch of soil. My inner dialogue is filled with statements like, “I hope this works” and “I can’t wait for a full yard of grass”. With the seeds in place, it is time to provide ample water to promote growth. The process of growing grass is a long and arduous task, but given the right conditions, one can appreciate some of the simpler things in life.

The feeling of accomplishment that one gets when working outdoors is second to none. This feeling, coupled with an inspirational back-drop is a formula to ensure a level of satisfaction and peace. Spring is a symbol of new life and rebirth. This is for good reason, since it is the one time of the year that I feel the most alive and attuned with nature. I wish spring lasted all year long, but I guess then it would not be as magical. I will just need to make the best of this spring and soak up every bit of it.

Where Did The Time Go?

Exercising used to be one of my favorite activities. I exercised six days a week. Usually four days were devoted to weight training and the other two for Cardio-vascular fitness. I loved the feeling of accomplishment that came with exercise. But more intoxicating was the level of confidence that being physically fit generated. Unfortunately, life took over.

It is as if at some point I let my life dictate how I should feel and what I should be doing with my time. Work in itself takes up so much of one’s time that it becomes very easy to turn to a sedentary lifestyle. Even though my desk job lacks the need for physical stamina, it is the mental stresses that deplete my energy. Not to mention that I have to devote an hour and a half to two hours a day just for the commute. Include my college courses and all of the sudden, I am out of time. I know that these are just excuses, but they do have an effect on my state of mind.

I recently started back up on my exercise and I must admit it is definitely tougher than I remember. I still get the sense of accomplishment, but it will take a while to get all of that confidence back. Luckily, exercise is still a great deal of fun for me. I also enjoy the mental game that one experiences while working out. (Can I get one more repetition in? or I think I will try forty-five minutes on the treadmill today.) The internal motivation to grow is a powerful force. I am very proud of myself for starting to exercise again, but time constraints will continue to plague me.

I am having trouble finding a happy medium between work and fitness. Now I am exercising more, but I am also more physically drained. This makes some of my work hours more complicated as I sometimes fight to stay awake. Where does all of the time go? I know that life wasn’t always such a scramble.
I will do whatever it takes to get my health back, but it will be a long arduous road. I just need to maintain focus and avoid distractions. I also need to be sure that I reward myself occasionally for any small goals I meet along the way. And above all, “Don’t get discouraged.” It took a great deal of time for me to get into this physical state, so it will take me just as long to get out.

The Freedom Machine

Motor Vehicles have been a symbol of freedom for as long as I can remember. From the moment I sat down in my first car, I felt a sense of release. I was un-tethered from the parental guidance that oppressed me. The ability to transport myself wherever I wished with the turn of a key was exhilarating. The feelings during those moments are still ingrained in my soul.

With the wind in my hair and the sun on my face, I could just drive. I did not need a destination. I could just crank up the radio and get lost. The uncertainty that lurked around each turn made each trip a mystery and an adventure. Looking into the rear-view mirror was like glancing through a portal and seeing the past. Sometimes I would take a deep breath and put the gas pedal to the floor. As the car accelerated, I felt as if my heart was going to pound right out of my chest. It was thrilling, scary even. I could do almost anything that I wanted in my car. I did not have a care in the world.

These days, my car takes on a much different tone. Now that I am much older, money became an issue. It just seems irrational to drive around wasting gasoline and adding miles to my vehicle. The freedom machine of my youth officially lost its luster. I still hope to get back there at some point, because I do believe that there is something almost therapeutic about just going for a drive. When I was a teenager, I remember telling my mom that I was going out. She would always ask, “Where are you going?” My usual response was, “I’m just gonna go drivin’ around.” It is difficult for me to wrap my mind around this statement now. When go for a drive these days, it is just to get from point A to point B. I always have a premeditated destination. The freedom machine is now used for nothing more than function.

Perhaps this is why a lot of adults go through a mid-life crisis. It would seem to me that one of the best ways to relive ones youth is to channel some of these feelings. The older gentleman that just passed in his brand new Corvette with the convertible top down is probably trying to inject the adventure back into his life. I am sure that will be me one day. I am only thirty-one and I already yearn for the feeling of freedom that my car once bestowed upon me.

Memoirs of a Short Man

The life of a short man is full of jealousy and feelings of inadequacy. I have always been shorter than my peers have. I have come to terms with it more so as I have gotten older, but every once in a while I still hope for a random growth spurt. Unfortunately, I do not think it is going to happen. Apparently, it is uncommon for a thirty-one year old.

My first gripe about being a short man is the natural limitation concerning members of the opposite sex. Being a short man, I always search for a women that are my height or shorter. One would think that this would be universal, but it is not. All of the tall men tend to want the tiny women. It seems that these skyscrapers could have found a woman from average height to their height. Aside from making sense, this would also permit me a larger pool to work with. It seems only fair.

Secondly, how many short jokes do I have to hear? I get it. I am not very tall. The, “I don’t think your tall enough to ride this ride” is always a fun one at the county fair for the billionth time. Luckily, for me I take my handicap in stride and usually beat them to the punch line. My crusades have afforded me a plethora of witty short man humor. By cracking the short jokes before they can, I can come off as the funny short man. Such aspirations I have.

Lastly, every time something is out of reach, it is a blast to the ego. I find it hilarious when my wife asks me to get something up high, since I am all of a half an inch taller than she is. I guess I should thank her for allowing me to feel more like a man on occasion.

Do not get me wrong, I am sure there are benefits to being short, I just do not know of any. Fortunately, I hear that they have heel implants now. This way I can be the slightly taller short man with the abnormally sized feet. I have learned to live with my Napoleon complex and my short stature. It was not easy, but I will make the best of it. Next time that someone attempts to overlook me for a pick-up game of basketball I will inform that I am not short, just gravity sensitive and I will not stand for their intolerance.

Big Wheel Keep On Turning

I have very few memories of my childhood and that is probably a good thing. What I remember most is riding my big wheel around Mema’s (I could not say grandma) house. I have tried to remember more of my fragmented past, but with little luck. Those summer days are the best memories that I have of my youth.

I had a Knight Rider big wheel, which looked similar to the car from the hit television series of the same name. “Kitt” was the name of the car on the show. “Kitt” was also a robot that could talk and function on its own accord. The car also had a distinctive red light just below the hood that would light up when the car spoke. My big wheel shared this red light, though mine did not light up. The light was one of my favorite things about my big wheel, because it reminded me of “Kitt”. My other favorite component was the emergency brake lever on the right side next the rear wheels, which made for some exhilarating fun.

Mema lived on a corner lot and the only real neighbor she had was the house to the right. The owners name was Mr. Lesch. Every summer day, I would be outside riding back-and-forth from Mema’s driveway to Mr. Lesch’s driveway. I would build up as much speed as possible as I approached the concrete pad of the driveway and then I yanked on my brake lever. This sent my big wheel into a full one hundred and eighty degree spin. Each time I skidded to a stop, I would feverishly peddle to build my speed back up for the next driveway. One could always hear the crackle of those plastic wheels against the grit and pebbles on the sidewalk and then a plastic scrap as I spun around with glee.

Everyday Mr. Lesch would see me riding around and stop to ask me if I wanted a snack. It would have been rude to turn down his generosity. That and at my young age, I could always eat. Sometimes it was a pickle and other times a fresh baked cookie that Mrs. Lesch made. It is amazing how much easier it was to entertain myself as a child. It was so much simpler then.

Sometimes I think back and remember the innocence and simplicity of my youth and I miss it. Back then, I did not worry about bills or a mortgage. The complexity of marriage was alien to me. It was just my big wheel, the cool summer air, and me.

Am I going blind?

Life has a strange way of presenting changes to one’s perception. When I was youthful, there were some foods that I liked and some that I did not. As I grew older, my taste changed. I began to like a larger variety of foods. Of which, some were foods that I hated as a child. This was a very gradual change that had a mild impact on my life. My perception of an important person changed recently, which is much more serious than my superficial example. This new change holds more emotion and harsher consequences.

Recently, someone that I love appeared different to me. The intense love and passion that we shared in the beginning was enthralling. This person was my entire world and we spent all of our time together. I could not imagine not having her at my side. We always smiled and never fought. Unfortunately, the passion vanished almost as magically as it appeared.

The person that used to be the rock that I leaned against for support was gone. Did I change? Did she change? I think that both of us changed. It is difficult to pinpoint when my feelings began to deviate. Once the passion is gone, is there any way to get it back? Under any other circumstance, I would say “Yes”, but something is different inside of me. I no longer see her as the focus of my affections, but she is still very dear to me. What saddens me the most is that I am not worried about the loss of passion. I am more concerned about losing my best friend. It is very difficult for me to envision a life without her. I wish that I could change, so that we could return to our old ways. I do not see that happening. I have completely detached. Where did I go wrong? Why is this happening to us?

Old memories of us laughing and joking together haunt my thoughts. Her smile strikes my heart with the force and the precision of an arrow, yet I only see her as a friend. Why can’t I change my perception of her? I sometimes question my ability to see her properly. I can see her standing before me, but I cannot see her for everything she meant to me in the past. If I can’t see how much she means to me, I must be blind.

HD to 3D

High-Definition (HD) television is on its way to becoming the customary standard for the United States. Currently Standard Definition still takes up the majority of the population, but not by much. Many Americans are making the switch to improve the picture quality of their everyday entertainment, but this advance typically comes with a hefty price tag. With HD on the rise, is it wise for so many companies to be investing so much money into a third dimension?

Being able to view your movies in the third dimension (3D) has been an attractive feature for moviegoers for a long time, but how many want to watch their every day entertainment in 3D? 3D viewings of box office blockbusters Avatar and Up have prompted many companies within the industry to start investing substantial sums of money into 3D technology. With the current recession, few are able to afford a new television, but those that could have already purchased a HD television. It seems unlikely that the world is ready for 3D viewing in their home. The initial cost for these items would be substantial. Besides purchasing a new 3D television, one would need to purchase a 3D capable Blue-ray player, 3D movies, and 3D glasses for each person in the audience. Consumers will also likely experience a pricey upgrade with the cable or satellite company to get all the new 3D channels.

The increase in 3D movie ticket sales made such an impact on the industry, that ESPN and the Discovery channel have already confirmed a 3D channel within the coming months. ESPN has already scheduled a 3D broadcast of World Cup Soccer in June. With the surge of interest surrounding this technology, it is likely that more television stations will do the same. The broadcast companies are attempting to draw consumers in with exclusive events, but they are not the only ones that are pushing to get 3D television to market.

The biggest names in electronics are already totting their new toys at this year’s Consumer Electronics Show (CES). LG, Panasonic, and Toshiba treated CES guests with the opportunity to experience 3D television. Many other electronics manufacturers are providing this new option as well, but is this a wise move for the industry?

With the current downturn in the economy, is it wise for so many companies to invest such a large amount of money into this technology? How will the market receive such a lavish item? With many Americans still watching television in Standard Definition, making the jump to HD, could be a stretch of the imagination.

Mmmm... Donuts

February 15, 2010

Ben Lemon
1234 Dreary Lane
Marietta, GA 30066



Krispy Kreme Doughnut Corporation
PO Box 83
Winston-Salem, NC 27102

Dear Krispy Kreme,

I am writing you in regards to the service I received at your Marietta, Georgia location (299 Cobb Parkway South). I have been frequenting this establishment for several years and have always been discouraged by the cold and callous demeanor of its workers. Unfortunately, this location is the only one near my place of employment. On my last visit, the lack of accountability and customer service was very unacceptable to say the least.

On February 10th, I stopped to get a doughnut and coffee as I do at least once a week on my way to work. On this particular day, the drive-thru employee was very rude. She has been rude in the past, but this time she was worse. I was given my doughnut and was asked to wait for my coffee. Upon her return to the window, she spilled the very hot coffee across my lap. This of course burned me, but it also damaged the seats and carpet in my car. I asked to speak to the manager and she advised me that he was not available. I asked, “why not?” The employee told me that he has not come into work yet and said the she does not know when he will arrive. I explained my disapproval and asked her to get me a new cup of coffee. Upon receiving the coffee, I informed her that I will be contacting the corporate office about this.

I must pose a few questions regarding my experience at this particular location. Why was the Marietta store without a manager? Who is going to pay to get this mess shampooed out of my vehicle’s interior? I enjoy your product, but I do not believe that it is worth the lackluster service and the chance that this may happen again.

Sincerely,

Ben Lemon



Krispy Kreme Customer


Additions:
1. I added the date at the top of the letter.
2. I added a new line to the last paragraph. (“I must pose a few questions regarding my experience at this particular location.)
3. I also added “Sincerely” to my closing.
Deletion:
1. I deleted a sentence from my last paragraph. (At the very least, I think that Krispy Kreme should pay to get the interior of my vehicle cleaned.)
Substitution:
1. I changed, “I asked to speak to her manager” to I asked to speak to the manager”.
2. Instead of posing a question on the last sentence, I changed it to a sentence. [(I enjoy your product, but is it worth the lackluster service….) to (I enjoy your product, but I do not believe its worth the lackluster service….)]

I think the changes that I made the letter a bit more precise and professional. I also think that by removing “At the very least, I think that Krispy Kreme should pay to get the interior of my vehicle cleaned” that I have reduced the chance that Krispy Kreme will do the bare minimum to keep me as a customer.

Title of Blog Citation:
“Lisa the Tree Hugger.” The Simpsons.FOX. KTTV FOX, Los Angeles. 19 November 2000

Honorable Discharge

http://www.time.com/time/picturesoftheweek/0,29409,1950092_2017278,00.html

Being a Sergeant 1st class, I have seen my fair share of flag-draped coffins. I will never get used to it. Tolerance would be the most accurate description of my state of mind. Conflict overseas has definitely had an effect on the number of brothers and sisters that receive this honor.

Who is it this time? Is this a male or female? Perhaps we were in boot camp together or served together on my last tour. Could it be Joseph Taylor? I remember not thinking that he was cut out for the military life back in boot, but to my surprise he ended up being a real asset to his company. Maybe it’s Heather Nash. She saved my life in Afghanistan. I didn’t think I was going to survive the explosion, but her selflessness in action got me out of the blast radius and behind cover. She was even able to suppress enemy fire while I fended off the effects of the detonation. Regardless, the person in this casket is somebody’s loved one.

It troubles me to have these thoughts, but it is difficult not to. I am honored to be a part of this man or women’s ceremony, but I would much rather be sharing life with them. Am I out of line having these thoughts? Am I going soft? I should be focused on my orders not on these trivial thoughts, but this is my fourth ceremony of this kind in the last month. I understand why so many see the honor in dying for their country, but should such a sacrifice have to be made in this day and age. Was the action and motive that took this life, necessary? What about all of the lives before? Some of the veterans think of this as the highest honor. I think of it as an honor that nobody wants to bear. Perhaps that is a difference between the generations. I guess it is pretty amazing to be immortalized within the history books.

As I suspected, there is media everywhere. (Keep your back straight soldier! Keep your chin up! Make this individuals family proud and for God’s sake don’t trip.) The flag perfectly adorns this warrior’s final place of rest. The patriotism is overwhelming as we march to the sounds of the bugler playing “Taps”. There is a sea of red, white, and blue that flickers in the wind. I think I will take a moment of silent reflection for another selfless act of one for the defense of millions.


Reichanadter, Jeri. "Coming Home." Photo. Time.com 21 Dec. 2009. 9 Feb. 2010
http://www.time.com/time/picturesoftheweek/0,29409,1950092_2017278,00.html

The Gamer

I have been a big fan of video games for as long as I can remember. It is definitely my favorite past time. My first experience with video games was the Commodore 64 home computer. Most of the games were pretty simple and lacked the technological strength that today’s gaming consoles and computers have. The home computers in that era were nothing like what we see today. Windows was not even invented yet. Programs were initialized by the use of DOS. Plus, Commodore’s had a built in cartridge peripheral to allow the use of game cartridges, which is pretty uncommon for home computers today. Though the Commodore 64 was fun, it lacked the immersion that later gaming systems adopted. The Nintendo Entertainment System (NES) is a shining example of this.

One of the most memorable games that I played was Super Mario Bros., which is a side-scrolling action plat former. The level design was unlike anything that the gaming industry had seen to date. The level of exploration and reward were second-to-none. I remember scouring the levels for new hidden levels and various other goodies, which was quite addictive. Not to mention, it made for some great bragging rights amongst my friends. I remember when I first found the “warp zones” on level 1-2 and that I was the first of my friends to find it. Unfortunately, I also found out that my older brother already found it and that he also found one on level 4-2.

Some of the most fun I had in my youth involved my older brother and I doing laps on the massively popular kart racer, Mario Kart. This game made its debut on Super NES, which was the predecessor to the NES. The exhilaration, comradery, and enjoyment that I experienced while playing this game have seldom been matched. The feeling of accomplishment when I was able to spin my brother out, as infrequent as it may have been, was one of the things that kept me coming back for more. Still to this day, I find it hard to re-create the special moments that the older NES and SNES games gave me in my childhood.

Games have changed allot over the years. So much, that the industry has lost vision on some of the simplistically fun things that made up the games of my youth. I still play and enjoy the games of today, but I fear that I will never restore those feelings that so many others and I experienced back then. Perhaps it is not just video games or video game developers that have changed over the years. Would I still give Super Mario Bros. a play in today’s market? Unfortunately, I probably would not.

The Little Store

Eudora Welty structures her story, “The Little Store” by first giving a brief description of her town and her mother. Explaining her mother’s use of the nearby Grocer’s delivery service forms a good transition into the main part of her story, which is the young girl’s journey to “The Little Store”. When Welty comments, “she never set foot inside a grocery store” (Welty, 155) and then proceeds to detail the mother’s use of grocery delivery for her regular needs, she is providing a good transition into why the these trips to “The Little Store” are necessary.

Welty next begins to detail how well the little girl knows the sidewalk leading to “The Little Store” by stating, “I knew even the sidewalk to it as well as I knew my own skin” (Welty, 155). She reinforced this point by explaining the multitude of games that the young girl played. She commented on jumping rope, hopscotch, jacks, roller-skating, bike riding, and playing with her homemade steamboat. This provides the reader some insight into how well the little girl knows the area, background on the little girl, and also gives an idea as to the age range of the child. All of these statements are made with less detail as to add more emphasis to the main point of the story, which is “The Little Store”.

The author uses a lot of sensory description when explaining “The Little Store”. Welty writes, “There are almost tangible smells – licorice recently sucked in a child’s cheek” (Welty, 157). Aside from evoking a connection with the smell of licorice this statement also evokes the taste of licorice. She also further details a smell of dill-pickle, ammonia, and mice.

Another sense that was used in the story was sight. The author provides a fairly detailed depiction of the store through the girl’s eyes when she begins to explain the large amount of stock that lines the store shelves. This gives the reader a mental image of the surroundings.

Welty’s comment, “Shelves climbed to high reach all the way around” (Welty, 157) provides a vantage point for the young girl. Through the girl’s eyes the shelves were high reaching as if almost too the roof. It made me think of how I may look at a stadium today with its high-reaching stands that wrap all the way around. I also noticed that the writer describes Mr. Sessions’s store cheese as being “as big as a doll’s house” (Welty, 157). These points reinforce the writers’ technique to create a childlike perspective.



Eudora Welty. “The Little Store” and excerpt from “Storekeeper, 1935.” From The Eye of the Story; Selected Essays and Reviews by Eudora Welty. Copyright 1978 by Eudora Welty. Used by permission of Random House, Inc.

Where Am I From?

“Where am I from?” This is a difficult question, since I have lived in several places for an extended period of time. I was born on Barksdale Air Force Base in Bossier City, Louisiana. While I was still a baby, my parents moved to South Bend, Indiana. They separated a couple of years later and I stayed in Indiana with my father. At the age of nine, I moved to Georgia to live with my mother and I primarily lived there until the present. All of this relocating has made it difficult for me to identify myself with a given location.

Since I did not live in Louisiana for very long, I was too young to generate an opinion of the city or state. I also do not know whether I share any of the people’s characteristics or behaviors. These points make it difficult to consider Louisiana as the place that I am from, which is odd, since it is where I was born. The next state took up some of my more formidable years, so I will be able to draw many more comparisons between myself and my next location.

South Bend, Indiana is known for a couple things. Most notably is it is known for being the home of the University of Notre Dame. Naturally, I am a big fan of the “Fighting Irish”. Notre Dame’s prestige and public image, served as a beacon of hope for the surrounding inhabitants of South Bend. Another lesser known truth of South Bend is that it is home of the Merchants National Bank, which is one of the banks that John Dillinger robbed in the early 1930’s. I do find that I share some similar characteristics to the people of Northern Indiana. I find that I am much more acclimated to be comfortable in cold weather, which would make sense given the longer winters I experienced in South Bend as a child. This also makes Georgia summers a nightmare. South Bend has warm summers, but they are not as humid. I also think that these extended winters may have contributed to my “Golden Tan”, or lack thereof. My pale skin color appears to be a characteristic too as many of the white folks in this region share the same ultra-white, almost translucent complexion.

Around 9 years old, I moved to Marietta, Georgia. Everything in Marietta was so much nicer and cleaner than anything I experienced in South Bend. I noticed that the weather was much warmer and the winters were almost snow free. I went through middle school and High school in Marietta, so it became the place that I identified myself with the most. This is where I made the most friends and is also where I searched for and found my own individuality. I have been told by many Southerners that I sound like a northerner. This is because I do not share their “draw” or accent, which is funny since I was born in the south and spent the majority of my life in the south.

I am still unsure of where I am from. I guess it depends on whether one is referring to where someone is born or where someone mostly identifies with. If asked, where I am from, my answer would still be that I was born in Louisiana, but I am from Georgia. I made this decision knowing that I share more physical characteristics with the people of Indiana, but it is the friends and interactions of Georgia that I identify myself with the most.

The Pantry

My wife and I decide to take a drive to our new house. The last couple of weeks, my stepfather and I have been working to get it ready for the “big move”. I was planning to sand some of the sheetrock and maybe add a little paint to some newly added walls, but I am too tired today. Regardless, it is nice to walk around and appreciate the progress of our new home.

Upon entering the front door, I smell the strong odor of paint and sheetrock. I see a light haze that coats everything. As my shoes slide across the hardwood floor, I see a faint mist of chalky white powder fill the air around my feet. Two sets of shoe treads detail our path throughout the house. My wife points to some minor imperfections that she would like me to address, but my focus is on a particular part of the house. I assure her that everything will get fixed and “If I can’t see the minutiae, I still try to keep my eyes open.” She then draws her focus to the chandelier in the living room being too small, I reminded her of how short we are, and that it is okay if “we miss a great deal, because we perceive only things on our scale. The lights are out in the far corner of the room. “Still, a great deal of light falls on everything”. I can still make out a floor that is littered with various saws, electric drills, and hand tools. All of which, share the same distinct haze. The kitchen is the main area of focus for this trip, so I continue through the house.

I flip the light switch and “I see what I expect”. The large white tiles show some signs of age, but mainly they are just dirty. That is my impression, but “sense impressions of one-celled animals are not edited for the brain: “This is philosophically interesting in a rather mournful way, since it means that only the simplest animals perceive the universe as it is.”” The counter top is beset with lunch debris and the occasional beer bottle from the weeks prior, but the intense white of the new appliances add some needed contrast to an area of such disarray. To my left is a new structure. It’s a walk-in pantry that we are working on. I see freshly painted sheet rock with a new white door, much whiter with the tile, but on par with the appliances. It’s the little things that I may overlook that remind me that, “It’s all a matter of keeping my eyes open.” The freshly nailed baseboards have not been puttied or painted, but it is what is inside that has my curiosity. I open the pantry door and I realized that, “I had been my whole life a bell, and never knew it until that moment I was lifted and struck.” With a click that resonates in my ear, a fluorescent bulb above my head automatically illuminates. My stepfather had already completed the sheetrock inside and installed the pantry light. I see my wife’s eyes light up with enjoyment as she sees how this new addition has turned out. I see several spots of fresh sheetrock mud and a bright bulb that has a hodgepodge of wires hanging down from it. I start to contemplate the sanding that I will need to do inside of the pantry and how that haze that covers everything in the house will soon be covering my hands, face, and clothes. This will definitely be a job for another day.

After shutting the pantry door, I took a brief moment to admire the craftsmanship that was caught in my gaze. I went back into the living room, past the tools and across the dusty floor to the front door. “I reel in confusion; I don’t understand what I see”, but I am happy to say that this is going to turn out to be a great house. I locked the door and we went home.



Annie Dillard. “Seeing.” From Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard. Copyright 1974 by Annie Dillard. Reprinted by permission of Harper-Collins Publishers inc.