Love Story

Preface:

On March 1, 2012 I went to The Vantage at Cityview Retirement Community near TCU's campus to transcribe the love stories of the elderly couples there. This is the story of Joni and Jim Roantree.

The Engagement

While courting Joni, Jim asks her to go sailing with him on Long Island Sound in New York every Saturday or Sunday. Since she knows nothing about his favorite sport, he has to teach her everything. At this time, he owns a Lightning, which is a nineteen foot daysailer with an open cockpit and center board. He turns out to be a devoted instructor. Jim teaches her about the wind, the sails, and the structure of the boat. Three months after they meet, he feels that Joni is ready to be responsible for handling the large forward sail called the spinnaker.

One sunny, cold, and windy Saturday in October 1954, they were sailing in the stiff breezes and cold, choppy waters. After taking the spinnaker down, Jim realizes that there is a problem. He asks his "spinnaker girl" to go up on deck to see what was wrong. At this point the boat is heeling over, so as Joni is crawling forward to release the spinnaker guy, she loses balance and falls under the jib sail overboard. She takes a deep breath and as she surfaces she sees the wire shrouds go by. She is lucky enough to grab hold of one. With the help of the rest of the crew, she finds herself back in the cockpit.

What a sorry picture stands in front of the boys. Joni looks like a drowned puppy with wet stringy hair. She is shaking because of the cold wind hitting her drenched clothes. Jim is enough of a gentlemen to ask her if she would like to return to the Plandome Club to change her clothes. She realizes though, it would mean dropping out of the race because the boat would miss the last mark. Without hesitation, Joni answers, "No, thank you. Let's finish the race."

As Jim relates the incident later on, he knew then and there that Joni was the girl for him. It took strong winds and high seas to find the girl for Jim. One week later, on Halloween Eve 1954, Jim asks Joni to be his wife for now and forever. Without hesitation she accepts his proposal and we announce our engagement. They were married the next spring May 7th, 1955.

Portfolio Introduction

During my junior and senior year English classes I learned how to write. I became versed in the five paragraph structure: an introduction, three body paragraphs, and a conclusion. I got the hang of constructing a thesis sentence. I developed a deeper vocabulary so as to better express my thoughts and opinions while demonstrating critical thinking. These are all very practical skills that have provided me with a solid foundation and the tools to be a competent writer. Literature & Civilizations II, however, taught me who I am as a writer.

Through this class, I found out how to make writing the most appealing to me – by making it funny. I've always thought of myself as a humorous person, and I want that to come across in my writing. One of my filmmaking teachers in high school told me “if you have fun making it, they'll have fun watching it.” I feel like this aphorism has applications that extend to writing as well. Another aspect of the writing in this class that made it enjoyable was its public setting. I knew that whatever I was putting out into the world, my friends and classmates could see it. I was motivated by the positive feedback I received from peers. The most fun I had as part of this class, at least outside the classroom, was filling my blog with self-aware humor in hopes that one of my classmates would see it, get a kick out of it, and try to one-up me.

I also discovered how essential the planning process is to my writing. I'm a big fan of order and organization. If a don't have an outline for how to go about writing, it all becomes a giant mess. Whether I'm writing an argumentative essay for religion or a more informal blog for this class, I feed off of a sense of structure.

My favorite piece of writing that I created this year was not made as part of this class, or any class, instead it was extracurricular writing. I spent an incredible amount of time working and reworking the composition of my Neeley Fellows cover letter, and because of that it was also one of my biggest learning experiences. One problem that I had repeatedly was that I would spend far too much time internally deliberating the merits of this phrasing versus that phrasing without getting a single word on the page. Before this class, there was hardly ever a revisions phase in my writing. By the time I reached the end of my paper, I had usually spent so long weighing the benefits of different sentence structures, that my writing was pretty much how I wanted it to be. Unfortunately this frequently led to my writing style feeling stale or too formulaic. What I learned to do as part of this class was treat my writing like a conversation, literally. I found that when I talked through my papers as if speaking directly to someone, my brain would naturally find the best words or phrasing for the current situation.

But just because my cover letter was my favorite piece of writing, doesn't mean I'm not proud of what I produced in this class. I'm really happy with how my coming-of-age sketches turned out. I don't feel like a single one of them was written to take the easy way out. I chose six of my truest, most exciting life experiences – both highs and lows from my life – and expanded upon them in meaningful ways. I could've written simple sketches, but I chose not to – yes I could probably write an enjoyable story about a pet or a favorite TV show, but how would that help me in the long run? Some of these were old memories from when I was too little to be extrapolating significant meaning from them. In this way the coming-of-age sketches helped remember just how I've gotten to where I am today. Some of the situations I wrote about occurred so recent that I hadn't gotten a chance to reflect on my feelings about them yet, and in this way the coming-of-age sketches enabled me to derive meaning from my first year in college and how it's shaped me.

Thank you for the opportunity to be a part of this class. It truly was a growing experience.

Final Coming-of-Age Story

An old proverb about family reads "a tree is known by its fruit." If this adage is true, then I propose my family tree was designed Dr. Seuss - a large, crazy, and unique tree.

Chapter 1: The Parents

In which our hero begins an exciting new adventure

My mother is a self-employed accountant and works out of our house. One typical day when my dad was at work and I was at school, two people arrived on our front porch and knocked on the door. They were Mr. and Mrs. Crowley, two location managers working on an upcoming film production in Austin, Texas. They confronted my mom and asked her what she thought about the idea of shooting part of the movie in our house. Initially she was very skeptical, and told them to wait while she called my dad. She telephoned him at work asking for his advice.

“If they seem legitimate, invite them in and talk it over.”

She did just that. It turns out that as a child, John Crowley went to the same elementary school that I did, not more than three blocks from house. He know the neighborhood really well as a result, and thought the location, and more specifically my house, would be a perfect place to film the movie. After one more meeting with the Crowleys, this time with my dad present, my parents agreed to the whole process.

I'm fairly certain that at that point time sped forward a couple weeks, and before I knew it the film adaptation of the book How to Eat Fried Worms was being filmed at my house. The many weeks they spent filming the movie were some of the best of my life. Amazing experience after amazing experience just kept coming.

I got to meet celebrities like Tom Cavanagh, who played J.D.'s brother on the television show Scrubs, and Hallie Eisenberg, that one girl from the Pepsi commercial and also the sister of Jesse Eisenberg (star of The Social Network and Zombieland). I also had the opportunity to be in the movie as well. It was really cool to be an extra in the movie, and it was easy money too. At one point I also got to be a hand model in one the scenes, which can be a surprisingly lucrative career for a middle schooler. During the shooting, the camera crews discovered that the main hallway of our house was too narrow for a full camera rig to be able to comfortably film in. Because of this, the film company ended up building a replica of my house in a studio in north Austin. I remember going to visit the set and absolutely loosing it. It was as if the world's largest printer had spat out an exact copy of my house, with all the little details from my room specifically included.

I can probably talk about the whole experience for days, but what I really valued was how it changed the way I connected with my family. How often does something crazy and unexpected like a movie being filmed in your house happen? While the movie was being filmed in our house, we were temporarily moved to a rented house. I was oddly happy about our “new home” being two stories tall, and I made sure to thank the film company for the upgrade. The whole filming process brought everyone closer together. Every new day was an exciting adventure and we all got to be involved in a once in a lifetime opportunity. My favorite memories came from swapping stories with my parents about which important movie person they had met that day and talking about what cool opportunities life had in store for the following day. I was completely and utterly happy.

Chapter 2: The Cousins

In which our hero learns of the wonder of animation and the danger of alcoholism

Every year my aunt Karen throws a Fourth of July party, and this year was no different. It was the summer after I had finished fifth grade, and I was excited to see all of my cousins in one place. Although I am an only child, my mother was one of nine children, so fortunately I have eighteen cousins who have always acted as my pseudo brothers and sisters. My aunt's backyard was the perfect place for us to play. There was a large expanse of grass for running around, a trampoline to jump on, a tree house to climb, a hammock to swing on, and a pool to swim in – the possibilities were endless.

I eagerly awaiting the arrival of my two cousins, Ben and Natalie. They were my only two cousins who were simultaneously close enough in age and proximity to Austin to play with. I had always looked up to Ben because he was a few years older than me, and in my eyes, possessed infinite wisdom. I consistently enjoyed spending time with Natalie because we were born within a couple months of each other and generally liked the same things. I knew that they would both be late, however, because that's how it always was with them; I don't think I ever once saw my aunt Maureen and my uncle Stephen, their parents, arrive on time for anything. I ran around the house absentmindedly until they came, completely ignorant to anything the adults were concerned with. My aunt's house was the perfect place for them to play. There was beer to drink, margaritas to drink, wine to drink, liquor to drink – the possibilities were endless.

Eventually my two cousins showed up and we had our usual good time. We swam, played, and laughed until we were too tired to do so any longer. Our family gatherings were always potluck style events; everyone brought something to contribute. We had the usual fare: hot dogs, hamburgers, and barbeque. Once it got dark, we lit sparklers, danced around and celebrated our nation's independence. Hooray. My cousins suggested that we go inside for dessert, and I followed them thinking it to be a splendid idea. I was excited because my aunt Maureen had brought along some toffee ice cream, and this would be the first time I would be able to have any since I got my braces off. We couldn't find any in the freezer, so we asked my aunt Maureen where it was.

That's when things started to get out of hand. Ben, Natalie, and I were standing in the kitchen when my aunt Maureen started chastising my uncle Stephen. It appeared that he had forgotten to pick up any toffee ice cream. Chastising turned to yelling, and from there everything escalated very quickly. I tried to speak up.

“It's really not that big of a deal. We have ice cream at home.”

I didn't know why neither of them seemed to notice me or listen to what I had said. We could still hear them arguing as my father dragged the three of us out of the kitchen and my mother mother grabbed all of our things and headed towards the door. I didn't really think much of it at the time. An impromptu cousins sleepover at my house seemed like an awesome idea.

When we got home, my parents did everything they could to lighten the mood. We ate ice cream, strawberry not toffee, and played board games for a while. The last thing we did was unfold our couch and transform it into a bed. Because I have a such a small family, we hardly ever had to do this, and I considered it to be a special occasion. The five of us laid on the newly made bed and watched the Lion King until we fell asleep. The Lion King is still my favorite movie, not just because it's one I enjoyed watching as a kid, but because it reminds me of a time when my family was truly there for one another and I honestly felt like I had a brother and sister.

Chapter 3: The Great-relatives

In which our hero discovers new connections

My phone vibrated in my pocket accompanied by a horrible siren ringtone which served as a warning that one of my parents was calling. I answered and heard my mother's voice. I could immediately tell she was upset from the way her voice was shaking.

“Your great-aunt Dorrace passed away last night.”

I didn't really know how to react. I had only met my great-aunt Dorrace a handful of times, and I don't often get the opportunity to see that side of my family much. I asked my mom how she was feeling about everything, and how she was taking the news. She said she would be fine, but that it might take a while.

“We will be coming up for the funeral is this weekend in Fort Worth. We'd love it if you came.”

“Of course. I'd be glad to. I can't to wait to see you both.”

Saturday came more quickly than expected. I woke up early, put on my Sunday best, and met my parents just outside my dorm. I was astonished at just how close the church was to campus. We turned just off Hulen and pretty soon we were on our way inside. We waited in a small room exchanging solemn hellos. As the service began I couldn't help but look around. I hardly ever go to church, and I hadn't been to funeral in eight or ten years. I have been fortunate enough to not encounter death much in my life. Once it was over, we left the building, filed into our cars and began the motorcade. After the burial ceremony we attended the reception at a relative's house.

I had never seen so many distant family members in my life. There were cousins of the first, second, and third variety. People talked to one another and exchanged stories about Dorrace and her husband Kirksey. I was surprised to learn that he had actually taught at TCU as an economics professor and also worked as a drill instructor for ROTC during his time at the university. I made my way through the kitchen, living room, dining room, and eventually touring the entire house talking with people. It appeared that for every one face I managed to recognize, there were two other three other new faces that I had yet to meet. By the time the whole ordeal was finished my palms and my back were sore from all the handshaking and bear-hugging that had transpired.

As we made our way out of the house, I felt a strange sense of duality. I had lost a relative, yet the funeral was not a lamentation of death, but rather a celebration of her life. Although Dorrace's candle had burned out, I met so many others that day that lit anew. At first I didn't know if it was cognitive dissonance or what exactly, but I felt simultaneously sad and happy.

The Conclusion

I believe if you were to slice me open, in one fell swoop, horizontally across my abdomen you could study me dendrochronologically. Just as a tree records its growth in yearly rings, I too reflect my changes internally. I started my life as a part of a very tight knit circle, my immediate family – mom, dad, and I – but over time my circle has grown. That circle is continually expanding, even now as it encompasses aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, great-aunts, great-uncles, and so on and so forth.

The Party (Coming-of-Age Sketch)

Last week, during dead days, several of my friends and I decided to treat ourselves to a night of fun instead of studying. We ventured to a house party just off of campus, walked around the side, opened a steel gate, and let ourselves in. You never would have guessed it from the unassuming outward appearance of the single story residence, but there was a huge gathering inside. The night began well enough, and everyone was having a good time. We passed people playing games outside as we made our way to the back door of the house. As we entered, we quickly realized that someone had gotten a bit inventive with the smoke machine. None of us could see more than three feet ahead of ourselves in any given direction.

Toward the end of the night, as the party was dying down, I walked out the back door to reconvene with my friends after having gone to the bathroom. They were all sitting down in a circle of lawn chairs as I approached them. What I saw next really disturbed me. I watched as my friend Kate point at Jake, my fraternity brother, and call him something unintelligible that I couldn't hear because I was out of earshot. In response, I witnessed Jake reach out and slap her. The whole incident, maybe ten seconds in length, seemed like an eternity. I could feel time slow down as my heart sank.

Everyone sprang into action. Just as suddenly as it had slowed, now time was moving in fast forward. I ran to join two of my other brothers as we worked to corral Jake. Everyone else gathered around Kate to make sure she was okay. Before I was able to take notice, the girls up and mobilized, leaving the party with haste. Largely by ourselves at this point, we asked Jake what the hell had happened.

He said that Kate had teasingly called him a name or something to that effect, and in retaliation he “playfully” hit her. With a unanimous “What?! You never ever hit a woman!” from the three of us, we proceeded to confront Jake about the error of his ways. Obviously not in his right mind, he attempted to make his faulty case, claiming that women always ask to be treated the same as men and he was doing just that. Always a stubborn one, it took a long time to talk Jake down. Ultimately he owned up to his wrongdoing, but that wasn't anywhere near the end of the conversation.

Jake started opening up a little bit and the whole incident boiled over into a different set of emotional issues entirely. At this point, my other brothers took their leave, and I was left to console him by myself. We talked about a lot of things: he talked about how he wasn't a man of principle, how he knowingly continued to make the wrong choices, how he didn't feel like one of our brothers, and how he always pushed people away who tried to connect with him. We spent hours talking. I broke it down to him like this: even if he didn't care enough about himself to clean up his act, I did. I told him that I was there to hold him accountable, and even if he didn't see any good qualities within himself, I did, excluding the incident that night, of course. I walked him to his dorm and then went right to see Kate in her dorm.

We sat in her room and I asked her about what was going through her mind. She was definitely still shaken up. Kate said that he didn't physically hurt her. The slap, however inappropriate, was not hard enough to cause any damage. She said she might have thought the whole thing to be playful if she wasn't so scared. Then Kate told me about how she had been in an abusive relationship her junior year of high school. She said that when Jake reached out at her that night it brought back up all these old feelings that she thought she had overcome. I told her it wasn't her fault, listened to everything she had to say, and acted as a shoulder to cry on. It was four in the morning by the time I left her dorm.

Prior to this night I would have labeled myself a cynic and a misanthrope at times, mostly caring for myself and not being a big proponent of sappy emotional understandings. However, this was a real growing experience for me. I had never really envisioned myself as someone else's counselor, but I learned that sometimes all it takes is for you to listen. People just need a friend to hear them out.  

The Funeral (Coming-of-Age Sketch)

It was Thursday afternoon as I was leaving my From Rock to Bach class and heading to the Rec center. It was a particularly nice February afternoon and I decided to celebrate by grabbing myself a smoothie. My phone vibrated in my pocket accompanied by a horrible siren ringtone which served as a warning that one of my parents was calling. I answered and heard my mother's voice. I could immediately tell she was upset from the way her voice was shaking.

“Your great-aunt Dorrace passed away last night.”

I didn't really know how to react. I had only met my great-aunt Dorrace a handful of times, and I don't often get the opportunity to see that side of my family much. I asked my mom how she was feeling about everything, and how she was taking the news. She said she would be fine, but that it might take a while.

“We will be coming up for the funeral is this weekend in Fort Worth. We'd love it if you came.”

“Of course. I'd be glad to. I can't to wait to see you both.”

Saturday came more quickly than expected. I woke up early, put on my Sunday best, and met my parents just outside my dorm. I was astonished at just how close the church was to campus. We turned just off Hulen and pretty soon we were on our way inside. We waited in a small room exchanging solemn hellos. As the service began I couldn't help but look around. I hardly ever go to church, and I hadn't been to funeral in eight or ten years. I have been fortunate enough to not encounter death much in my life. Once it was over, we left the building, filed into our cars and began the motorcade. After the burial ceremony we attended the reception at a relative's house.

I had never seen so many distant family members in my life. There were cousins of the first, second, and third variety. People talked to one another and exchanged stories about Dorrace and her husband Kirksey. I was surprised to learn that he had actually taught at TCU as an economics professor and also worked as a drill instructor for ROTC during his time at the university. I made my way through the kitchen, living room, dining room, and eventually touring the entire house talking with people. It appeared that for every one face I managed to recognize, there were two other three other new faces that I had yet to meet. By the time the whole ordeal was finished my palms and my back were sore from all the handshaking and bear-hugging that had transpired.

As we made our way out of the house, I felt a strange sense of duality. I had lost a relative, yet the funeral was not a lamentation of death, but rather a celebration of her life. Although Dorrace's candle had burned out, I met so many others that day that lit anew. At first I didn't know if it was cognitive dissonance or what exactly, but I felt simultaneously sad and happy.

The Lion King (Coming-of-Age Sketch)

Every year my aunt Karen throws a Fourth of July party, and this year was no different. It was the summer after I had finished fifth grade, and I was excited to see all of my cousins in one place. Although I am an only child, my mother was one of nine children, so fortunately I have eighteen cousins who have always acted as my pseudo brothers and sisters. My aunt's backyard was the perfect place for us to play. There was a large expanse of grass for running around, a trampoline to jump on, a tree house to climb, a hammock to swing on, and a pool to swim in – the possibilities were endless.

I eagerly awaiting the arrival of my two cousins, Ben and Natalie. They were my only two cousins who were simultaneously close enough in age and proximity to Austin to play with. I had always looked up to Ben because he was a few years older than me, and in my eyes, possessed infinite wisdom. I consistently enjoyed spending time with Natalie because we were born within a couple months of each other and generally liked the same things. I knew that they would both be late, however, because that's how it always was with them; I don't think I ever once saw my aunt Maureen and my uncle Stephen, their parents, arrive on time for anything. I ran around the house absentmindedly until they came, completely ignorant to anything the adults were concerned with. My aunt's house was the perfect place for them to play. There was beer to drink, margaritas to drink, wine to drink, liquor to drink – the possibilities were endless.

Eventually my two cousins showed up and we had our usual good time. We swam, played, and laughed until we were too tired to do so any longer. Our family gatherings were always potluck style events; everyone brought something to contribute. We had the usual fare: hot dogs, hamburgers, and barbeque. Once it got dark, we lit sparklers, danced around and celebrated our nation's independence. Hooray. My cousins suggested that we go inside for dessert, and I followed them thinking it to be a splendid idea. I was excited because my aunt Maureen had brought along some toffee ice cream, and this would be the first time I would be able to have any since I got my braces off. We couldn't find any in the freezer, so we asked my aunt Maureen where it was.

That's when things started to get out of hand. Ben, Natalie, and I were standing in the kitchen when my aunt Maureen started chastising my uncle Stephen. It appeared that he had forgotten to pick up any toffee ice cream. Chastising turned to yelling, and from there everything escalated very quickly. I tried to speak up.

“It's really not that big of a deal. We have ice cream at home.”

I didn't know why neither of them seemed to notice me or listen to what I had said. We could still hear them arguing as my father dragged the three of us out of the kitchen and my mother mother grabbed all of our things and headed towards the door. I didn't really think much of it at the time. An impromptu cousins sleepover at my house seemed like an awesome idea.

When we got home, my parents did everything they could to lighten the mood. We ate ice cream, strawberry not toffee, and played board games for a while. The last thing we did was unfold our couch and transform it into a bed. Because I have a such a small family, we hardly ever had to do this, and I considered it to be a special occasion. The five of us laid on the newly made bed and watched the Lion King until we fell asleep. The Lion King is still my favorite movie, not just because it's one I enjoyed watching as a kid, but because it reminds me of a time when my family was truly there for one another and I honestly felt like I had a brother and sister.

The Fun Fact (Coming-of-Age Sketch)

As the last couple weeks of summer came to a close, TCU began to take over my life. I went to orientation, attended Frog Camp, Frogs First, Howdy Week, and the like. Eventually, I wouldn't even have to think when introducing myself because it became second nature.

“Hi. I'm Paul Elliott. I'm a freshman Pre-Business major from Austin, Texas.”

I must have played dozens upon dozens of icebreakers after I left home college. Regardless of what kind of activity we were ever asked to perform in order to get to know one another, we always had to introduce ourselves. I guess it's an unspoken rule that when doing an icebreaker, one must provide everyone with an interesting fact about themselves. Sometimes you'd be asked for a favorite color or favorite food, but without fail, a “fun fact” was always required of you. Fortunately for me, I have had a go-to fun fact since middle school.

My mother is a self-employed accountant and works out of our house. One typical day when my dad was at work and I was at school, two people arrived on our front porch and knocked on the door. They were Mr. and Mrs. Crowley, two location managers working on an upcoming film production in Austin, Texas. They confronted my mom and asked her what she thought about the idea of shooting part of the movie in our house. Initially she was very skeptical, and told them to wait while she called my dad. She telephoned him at work asking for his advice.

“If they seem legitimate, invite them in and talk it over.”

She did just that. It turns out that as a child, John Crowley went to the same elementary school that I did, not more than three blocks from house. He know the neighborhood really well as a result, and thought the location, and more specifically my house, would be a perfect place to film the movie. After one more meeting with the Crowleys, this time with my dad present, my parents agreed to the whole process.

I'm fairly certain that at that point time sped forward a couple weeks, and before I knew it the film adaptation of the book How to Eat Fried Worms was being filmed at my house. The many weeks they spent filming the movie were some of the best of my life. Amazing experience after amazing experience just kept coming.

I got to meet celebrities like Tom Cavanagh, who played J.D.'s brother on the television show Scrubs, and Hallie Eisenberg, that one girl from the Pepsi commercial and also the sister of Jesse Eisenberg (star of The Social Network and Zombieland). I also had the opportunity to be in the movie as well. It was really cool to be an extra in the movie, and it was easy money too. At one point I also got to be a hand model in one the scenes, which can be a surprisingly lucrative career for a middle schooler. During the shooting, the camera crews discovered that the main hallway of our house was too narrow for a full camera rig to be able to comfortably film in. Because of this, the film company ended up building a replica of my house in a studio in north Austin. I remember going to visit the set and absolutely loosing it. It was as if the world's largest printer had spat out an exact copy of my house, with all the little details from my room specifically included.

I can probably talk about the whole experience for days, but what I really valued was how it changed the way I connected with my family. How often does something crazy and unexpected like a movie being filmed in your house happen? While the movie was being filmed in our house, we were temporarily moved to a rented house. I was oddly happy about our “new home” being two stories tall, and I made sure to thank the film company for the upgrade. The whole filming process brought everyone closer together. Every new day was an exciting adventure and we all got to be involved in a once in a lifetime opportunity. My favorite memories came from swapping stories with my parents about which important movie person they had met that day and talking about what cool opportunities life had in store for the following day. I was completely and utterly happy.

The Rejection (Coming-of-Age Sketch)

One Friday afternoon, late in the second semester of my sophomore year of high school, I made my way from the cafeteria, up several flights of stairs, and entered my science class. Expecting yet another mundane lesson in chemistry, I was pleasantly greeted by my teacher with a small pink slip of paper in hand. Apparently I was to go to principal's office. I racked my brain, trying to think if I had done anything wrong recently that merited administrative discipline. Unable to find something to be guilty about, I made my way for the principal's office.

I entered a room in which nineteen of my peers stood, all of huddled together. My principal, Mrs. Houser, told us that all of us had achieved above average PSAT scores. We were told that our scores coupled with recommendations from our teachers placed us in a unique position, and that an exciting opportunity awaited us in the summer should we so choose. That was the first time I ever heard about the Seedling Foundation.

It was explained to me that a nice lawyer who worked in downtown Austin, a man named John Blazier, had offered to be our educational benefactor. He was looking for several academically successful students from different Austin-area high schools to provide them with free SAT training in hopes that it would help them get admitted to better colleges down the line. Mrs. Houser polled all of us, asking if anyone was interested in participating in the program. Unsurprisingly, there was a resounding yes from every student in the room. We all wanted this opportunity. Unfortunately, not all of us would be able to go. The names of ten students were picked out of a hat, and luckily I was among them. That summer I spent every Sunday in Mr. Blazier's law firm downtown working with teachers, practicing math, reading, and writing, trying to get better at taking the SAT.

I was thankful to have participated in the Seedling Foundation because I felt it put me at an advantage as far as getting into a good college. In high school I always thought of myself as a good student. I aimed to take the most challenging courses I could, get involved with student organizations, and give back to the community when asked of me. I did enjoy learning, but the main reason I always challenged myself academically was that I really wanted to go to a good college.

Having been born and raised in Austin, Texas, I spent my entire life thinking I would go to the University of Texas. Admittance to UT was the barometer for my success as a human being as far as I was concerned. In my mind, I could probably kill a guy, and as long as I got accepted to UT, I was certain my parents would be exceptionally proud of me. Come senior year, UT was the first school I applied to. I always wanted to be a business student, so I sent off my application, hoping for admission to the McCombs School of Business, and bided my time. I knew I didn't have the money to go out of state, so I applied to some other Texas schools on a whim: Texas A&M, Texas Christian University, and Baylor mainly.

I thought my prospects were good because in Texas admittance to in-state schools is based on the ten percent rule. Basically, if you're ranked within the top ten percent of your graduating class at your high school, you're automatically accepted into several Texas institutions. My academic goal was to remain within this threshold for automatic acceptance throughout my high school career, and I did. What I did not know at the time, however, was that at UT, the top ten percent rule only guarantees you admission to University itself, not necessarily to the particular College you want.

The most disappointing day of my life came when I received my “acceptance” letter to UT. Upon opening it I discovered that I hadn't not made it into the McCombs School of Business, but instead my second choice, the College of Natural Sciences. I had no desire to go into the field of science; I had picked my second choice college at random. I didn't want to be a doctor, and I wanted nothing to do with science. This really shook me. I had no backup plan. My plans for the future, which had previously seemed so clear cut, were destroyed. Time didn't make things any easier for me. I was distraught to hear about other kids in my grade who were accepted to UT's business school despite having worse SAT scores, worse class rank, and less community involvement than myself.

I didn't know what to do. I considered still going to UT anyway, hoping to transfer into the business school with a high GPA. It would be a risky move to say the least. In the end, this made me consider TCU more heavily. However, I didn't warm up to the idea of going to a different university overnight. For a long time TCU played second fiddle to UT, but the more I got looked into it, the brighter my outlook on life became. I was offered a nice scholarship and I become more fond of the Neeley School of Business as I heard more and more about it.

Looking back on everything, I'm really glad that things played out the way they did. I have a tremendous life here at TCU. I'm just far enough away from home that I've been forced to develop a newfound sense of dependence that I doubt would have been fostered if I went to UT. When I visit my friends at UT now, I really find it hard to imagine myself going there. The school is far too big. I've been in many of the lecture halls. I appreciate that at TCU I feel like a name and not a number. But beyond that, I value my rejection from UT for another reason. Although the disappointment was initially crushing, I feel like it has made a stronger person. Furthermore, it taught me a valuable life lesson: Things don't always work out the way you intend them to, and that's okay.

“If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans.” - Woody Allen

The Sandwich (Coming-of-Age Sketch)

It was the summer between my junior and senior years of high school. I had just gotten back from a month long trip in Hawaii. I went to Hawaii as one of the many students involved with the TexasHawaii program. A freshman biology teacher from my high school, named Jeff Schwarz, basically runs the program. For about the past thirty years Mr. Schwarz has led a large group of high school students, gathered from several different public schools spread around the city, on this month long trip which aims to teacher students about the importance of human impact on the environment by immersing them in one of America's most vulnerable ecosystems, the Hawaiian islands.

To say that I was eager to see my friends upon my return home would be an understatement. One of the people who initially reach out to me after getting back was my friend Landon. We had met each other on tennis team during my freshman year of high school. Landon was two years older than me and a sophomore in college at the time. I hadn't seen him since he had up and moved out of state to Montana for college, and I was surprised when I got a text message from him one evening. He invited me to come an apartment downtown near UT's west campus where our mutual friend Matthew, also the same age as Landon, had been living. Excited to reconnect with my old friends, I happily accepted and drove downtown with my girlfriend that night.

We parked the car, walked to the apartment complex, up a spiral staircase and soon found ourselves at the front door. Upon entering, we were greeted by many friendly face, both familiar and foreign. The party was well attended and everyone was doing something. People were dancing in a circle as someone hunched over a Macbook that had seen better days attempted to DJ. Some were sitting around a humongous television screen playing FIFA. Others still were catching up, swapping stories, trying to convince one another which of them, in fact, had had the best freshman year while sipping on sparkling waters-- you know, typical teenager stuff. After a series of warm embraces, Landon caught my attention and motioned for me to follow him and a small group of people into Matthew's room.

I walked in the room and turned my head as I heard the sudden sound of the door locking behind me. As I returned my gaze to the center of the room, I noticed that a group of about seven people had assembled in a circle on Matthew's king-sized bed. In the middle of the bed laid the biggest sandwich I had ever seen. It was about three feet long and intricately designed from the looks of it. Growing up in Austin, I had always been aware of sandwiches in passing, but never had I come in this close contact with one. People were taking turns examining the sandwich, passing it around taking small bites. Eventually someone offered it to me. I was nervous to say the least.

Matthew and Landon quickly read the worried expression on my face and assured me everything would be fine. I thought to myself, “Why not? I'm a fun-loving guy.” And so I went for it. My friends helped me out with my first few bites. After three or four my throat was absolutely on fire! The hot sauce really got to me. I rushed out of the room toward the kitchen and got myself some water. Unfortunately, a college student's apartment isn't exactly the most well-equipped. Warm water from the tap did nothing satiate me. I hurriedly looked in the refrigerator. Barren. I swung open the door of the freezer. The only thing inside was a half-frozen milkshake from Whataburger. Desperate for anything cold, I grabbed it and scarfed it down.

My girlfriend could tell I wasn't feeling my best and suggested that we take our leave. I agreed and we quickly toured the apartment saying rushed goodbyes here and there. As we walked back to the car, I couldn't help but notice that my lips were shaking uncontrollably. I was incredibly anxious. I had bitten off more than I could chew both figuratively and literally. What would people think?

We entered the car, and buckled up. I slowly began to feel more secure as she turned on the car and headed home. Downtown Austin is quite hilly and designed in a grid system. More often than not, you inevitably hit several red lights and have to wait at many an intersection before reaching the highway. Our car was stopped on a steep, downward-sloping hill as we were waiting for a light to turn green. Just as the light changed, so did I. All of the sudden, this overwhelming feeling of fullness washed over me. I remarked to Lauren to that I could feel myself sinking into the seat, overcome by the immense weight of the sandwich. Soon we were on the highway. A sea of crimson tail lights guided us safely home.

Upon arriving at my house, we emerged from the car a pair of detectives. We sleuthed our way to my front porch. Looking through the glass portion of my front door, I noticed my father lying on the couch half asleep. Neither of us felt like waking him, nor did we have a curfew, so we decided to sneak around back and spend the pleasantly cool night sitting on my back porch swing. We held hands, talked, and played music just above a whisper on our iPods for what seemed like forever. It was pure bliss. Eventually we both grew tired and parted ways. I went inside and laid awake for a bit, just thinking. What a great night.

And this was just the first of many nights I spent with sandwiches. Since then, sandwiches have really changed my life. Growing up, I had been told to stay away from sandwiches because they were bad. That night definitely marked a change in me. If sandwiches were wrong, then I didn't want to be right. Sandwiches made me think differently in more way than one. I discovered that it's up to you to make your own decisions. You can't live your life in fear of something without ever experiencing it for yourself. I began to think more critically about things. I started to make my own choices in life. I have had some of the best times of my life hanging out with friends, enjoying a nice sub. Sandwiches have definitely brought me closer to my family as well. A mutual love of sandwiches is something my cousins and I all have in common, and it's honestly served to strengthen many a relationship.

Conversation Partner: Meeting #6

AN OPEN LETTER TO
MOHANAD & ABDUL MOHAMMED,

I really want to let you know that I wish we could have gotten to see each other more. I know from talking with my classmates how hard it can be to get two people who speak different languages together in the same room, especially college-aged kids who are well-known for being super busy and notoriously hard to get a hold of-- considering there are three of us, it makes the process all the more difficult.

You guys were so ridiculously nice and I had a blast talking with you. Whenever I would see either of you, whether it was meeting for a conversation, passing you on the way to class, or seeing you in Market Square, y'all just radiated positive energy and had big smiles on your faces.

I'm finishing up with my finals right now, and I'll be heading back home to Austin soon. I'm sure you both have exciting plans ahead of you, and I'd love to hear all about them. Seriously, next semester once I am back on campus I would love to meet with you both and catch up.

I want to sincerely apologize for the role I played in us not being able to meet as much as we had hoped. Communication is a two-way street, but I hope you know how sorry I am for not being the greatest ambassador to the English language, especially not the one y'all deserved.

Have a great summer. This one goes out to you guys.

Best,

Paul E.

Conversation Partner: Meeting #5

Wednesday May 2, 2012

Paul via e-mail:
Hey, Mohanad. 

It's Paul. I know it's been a while since we have met and talked, but if you would like to meet again any time soon, I would love to talk to you. 

Thanks,
Paul Elliott

I wait two days, but I don't get a response. I've had better success trying to reach Mohanad via text message in the past, so I try that instead.

Friday May 4, 2012

Paul: Hi Mohanad. Would you like to meet and talk again before school is over?

Still nothing, but I was really happy to get a text from him after two more days.

Sunday May 6, 2012

Mohanad: How are you doing? Could we meet on Tuesday instead of today? Because I have a homework tomorrow
Paul: Tuesday is good. When would you like to meet?

I don't get an answer Sunday night, but he gets back to me the next night.

Monday May 7, 2012

Mohanad: Letd
Paul: I do not understand
Mohanad: Let's meet at the bluu I mean by the 1973 restaurant
Mohanad: Is that ok?
Paul: Yes that is great. What time?
Mohanad: Is 7pm ok?
Paul: Yes. I will see you tomorrow at 7pm!
Mohanad: can i bring my friend with me? He goes to business school
Paul: Yes that would be great
Mohanad: Ok I will see u tomorrow

7:00 PM Tuesday comes around and I send Mohanad these text messages from 1873.

Tuesday May 8, 2012

Paul: Hey Mohanad. Do you still want to meet at 1873 in 15 minutes? I will walk over there soon
Paul: Hi Mohanad. I'm waiting by 1873 in the same place we have met before. I will be here until 7:30. Are you running late?
Paul: Hey Mohanad. I guess you were busy at 7pm. If you would like to meet ANY time, just send me a message.
Paul via e-mail:
Hey Mohanad,
Obviously we did not meet today at 7pm as planned. I guess you were busy, but I completely understand. If you would like to meet ANY time, just send me a message.
Thanks,
Paul Elliott
(512) 461-4343

TL;DR
5/8 - I was stood up.