File #995: "Mosaic_Spring2008_15.jpg"
Description
Our dark gray "limousine" arrived at the stated pick-up area. The bus lumbered as a pack animal that had carried massive amounts before us. Later I learned the proper term was "Haze Gray," and it fit the color perfectly. It was the same color as a dark thunderhead cloud in the hazy, dog days of summer.
We filed onto the bus, nobody knowing exactly our desti- nation. The bus bobbed and weaved through traffic. The anticipa- tion became thick in the air. Nobody knew exactly what awaited us outside the bus exit when it opened.
The doors opened to yelling and screaming by men in big hats, men with bad breath, and foreigners to all of us. I immediately recognized charm no longer got me through to the next challenge. I realized the life I previously knew was only a memory. I realized on this day, manhood started.
Through the years, many "Big Hats" influenced my development, and many changes took place in a day. Most people were not aware of their impact on my life. The time spent at boot camp transformed me into a more self-reliant individual. It enhanced my can-do attitude handed down by my ancestors. It turned a boy into a man that had respect for others, both individually and collectively.
I cannot say it was the best decision to drop out of college as a freshman and start life. However, returning to school as a more "seasoned" student, I have developed life's character build- ing lessons that would prepare me for scholastic studies. These tools of experience, likewise, provide me with a thirst for learn- ing. I have a sense of pride knowing I followed Uncle Sam's call and he made manhood an adventure, but it instills a larger satis- faction seeing what I can accomplish by applying myself to education.
Dead Fly On the Windowsill
Josh Adams
Oh, Dead Fly on the Windowsill,
How perplexing you are to me.
Still as a statue, quiet as the grave,
How many questions I have for you.
Where do you come from? Where have you been?
How did you come to be on my windowsill?
Perhaps you had a run-in with the cat,
Maybe the life was swatted out of you.
No matter the reason, here you are,
With nobody left to tell your saga.
If only you could speak,
What intriguing tales would you have to tell?
Oh Dead Fly on the Windowsill,
How I pity you.
We filed onto the bus, nobody knowing exactly our desti- nation. The bus bobbed and weaved through traffic. The anticipa- tion became thick in the air. Nobody knew exactly what awaited us outside the bus exit when it opened.
The doors opened to yelling and screaming by men in big hats, men with bad breath, and foreigners to all of us. I immediately recognized charm no longer got me through to the next challenge. I realized the life I previously knew was only a memory. I realized on this day, manhood started.
Through the years, many "Big Hats" influenced my development, and many changes took place in a day. Most people were not aware of their impact on my life. The time spent at boot camp transformed me into a more self-reliant individual. It enhanced my can-do attitude handed down by my ancestors. It turned a boy into a man that had respect for others, both individually and collectively.
I cannot say it was the best decision to drop out of college as a freshman and start life. However, returning to school as a more "seasoned" student, I have developed life's character build- ing lessons that would prepare me for scholastic studies. These tools of experience, likewise, provide me with a thirst for learn- ing. I have a sense of pride knowing I followed Uncle Sam's call and he made manhood an adventure, but it instills a larger satis- faction seeing what I can accomplish by applying myself to education.
Dead Fly On the Windowsill
Josh Adams
Oh, Dead Fly on the Windowsill,
How perplexing you are to me.
Still as a statue, quiet as the grave,
How many questions I have for you.
Where do you come from? Where have you been?
How did you come to be on my windowsill?
Perhaps you had a run-in with the cat,
Maybe the life was swatted out of you.
No matter the reason, here you are,
With nobody left to tell your saga.
If only you could speak,
What intriguing tales would you have to tell?
Oh Dead Fly on the Windowsill,
How I pity you.